


If You Wanted Honesty

by ashisverymuchonfire



Category: Bandom, Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Smut, in like 2 chapters, kellic - Freeform, most of the things i could put are spoilers sO IDK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 47,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4038907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisverymuchonfire/pseuds/ashisverymuchonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kellin and Vic have been dating for over a year. Everything seems to be going fairly well, but when Vic gets involved with something he really shouldn't be getting involved with, it shakes their relationship to its core. The ensuing chain of events brings out the rawest of emotions, leaving Kellin and Vic to question everything—about themselves, about each other, about the love they're destroying as they try to save it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where We Started

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello yes so basically I have a lot of fanfiction already posted on other websites and I just got an account on here so I'm posting everything I've already written here. This fic's kind of old (I wrote it over a year ago) and yeah yeah yeah the beginning is probably stereotypical and seems kind of boring but trust me it goes from 0-100 real quick so yeah. I don't want to spoil anything, but this is angst and there will be mentions of things that might be triggering, and like I said in the tags there will also be (kind of mediocre) smut in a couple places.

**Chapter 1 - Kellin**  
  
The first thing I hear is my iPhone ringing.  
  
I groan and reach out to where it sits on my side table. Without opening my eyes, I tap the screen around where I think the “Answer” button is and put it up to my ear. “Who are you and why the hell are you calling me at six in the morning?”  
  
"Kellin, it’s not six in the morning; it’s 7:45 in the morning. Get your ass down here, you sexy bastard. I’m waiting."  
  
I laugh. Of course it’s my boyfriend Vic. It wouldn’t be anyone else.  
  
Then I realize what he just said, and all of a sudden I’m completely awake. I’m going to be late for school. Again.  
  
 _Shit._  
  
I jump out of bed, shaking my head to clear away any more grogginess. I rush through my morning routine, taking a two-minute shower and throwing together an outfit that doesn’t match. When I take the first step downstairs, my dad immediately bombards me, demanding to know why I didn’t wake up earlier and how being tardy is going to help me in any way. Mom doesn’t say anything—not that she would.  
  
"Well,  _you’re_  the parent,” I point out to Dad. “Isn’t it part of your job to wake me up when I oversleep?”  
  
"My job is to teach you how to be responsible," Dad snaps. "And you’ll never learn to be responsible if you can’t even fucking wake yourself up on time."  
  
 _Oh, yeah, Dad, because you’re so responsible._  “Well, then,” I say, “don’t complain when I don’t get to school on time.”  
  
Slowly letting out my breath, I grab my backpack and head outside without bothering to eat breakfast. The morning’s always a bit difficult. Actually, the entire parent thing in general is a bit difficult. At least Mom has an afternoon shift, but she’s not really the problem; she just kind of ignores me. Dad works from home, so I have to deal with him almost constantly. Half the time I don’t even think he’s actually working. I don’t know how he keeps that job.  
  
Vic’s parents’ old blue car is sitting in the driveway, Vic behind the wheel. I hop into the passenger seat, breathing a sigh of relief and forgetting the tension from thirty seconds ago. As Vic pulls out and onto the road, he hands me a donut with his free hand. “You look hungry.”  
  
"Donuts? What’s the special occasion?"  
  
"The special occasion is you’re late. I sat here for, like, twenty minutes. Then I went down to Dunkin’ Donuts and got us both donuts and coffee. I figured you’d be ready by the time I got back…nope. So I called you."  
  
"Shit. Sorry."  
  
He smiles and sips his coffee. “Don’t have to apologize. I needed one of these anyways.”  
  
"Me, too. Didn’t eat breakfast." I take a bite out of my donut.  
  
Still keeping one hand on the steering wheel, Vic sets his cup down and tousles my hair. “Going natural today, are you?”  
  
I glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror. It’s still wet. I haven’t brushed it or anything. “Guess so.”  
  
He tousles it again, a bit rougher. His attention is more focused on me now. “Stop that,” I demand, though I actually enjoy it.  
  
"No way. You never let me do this."  
  
I smack his hand away, laughing. “Keep your eyes on the road, damn it!”  
  
The car swerves a little, and Vic quickly straightens it out. “Told you,” I sing.  
  
"Wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t hit me. We’ll continue that later."  
  
We both have stupid grins on our faces when we turn into the school parking lot. “Well, let’s hope we’re not completely screwed,” Vic says, putting an arm around me. “We could make it to class on time if we hurry. Unless you don’t give a shit. Then we don’t have to.”  
  
"The ‘rents do." I jump out of the car, grabbing my backpack and swinging it over my shoulder as I speed-walk toward the front doors of the high school.  
  
Vic sighs as he catches up to me. “It’s always the damn parental units.”  
  
He has a point. My life isn’t very exciting and I don’t have a whole lot of friends. Not many close ones, anyway. There’s only Vic and a senior named Oli, and my parents only know Vic. They wouldn’t approve of me hanging out with Oli just because of the fact that, since he’s eighteen, he’s nearly covered himself in tattoos. They don’t know I’m dating Vic, either; they think we’re still just really good friends.  
  
My parents aren’t exactly abusive or anything. I mean, Dad gets mad a lot, but it’s no big deal. I just sort of feel like I don’t really recognize them, like our whole family is just a bunch of awkward strangers. It seems like they only talk to me to put some more pressure and expectations on me. Even that is mostly Dad, since Mom barely speaks to me anymore. I’m trying to figure out if maybe I’ve disappointed her.  
  
Luckily, Vic and I make it just before the late bell rings. A few seconds after I sit down in my first period class, a message pops up on my phone’s screen. Oli is texting me from a different class. Discreetly, I check the message he just sent me:  
  
 _Saw you in the hall. Looks like you were running late today._  
  
I reply:  
  
 _I was. Please don’t make a hair comment._  
  
Oli says:  
  
 _Ok I won’t._  
  
Followed by:  
  
 _Your hair looks fucking fabulous._  
  
I try not to smile. Anyone reading that who knew him would know he was being sarcastic. Oli doesn’t use the word  _fabulous_  seriously.  
  
A third message pops up:  
  
 _Don’t tell me it doesn’t, I saw it._  
  
And then a fourth:  
  
 _I heard Ian’s looking to start some more shit with you._  
  
I suppress a groan and type back:  
  
 _Oh great. Hooray._  
  
Ian is my ex-boyfriend. He’s a senior like Oli, a year older than me. We dated when I was a freshman and he was a sophomore, which is a year he seems to have tried his hardest to forget. He acts like nobody remembers that the only reason he gives me a hard time is to hide the fact that he used to really like me.  
  
The whole rest of the period, Oli deliberately does not talk about Ian to keep me from thinking about him. Our conversation is meaningless, random, and doesn’t really go anywhere, but that’s okay with me. It’s a distraction, and that’s all I want.  
  
On my way to second period, I find Vic talking with his friend Jaime and hold my hand up for high-fives as I walk past them. Both of them give me one, and then Jaime points at something over my shoulder. “Better watch out,” he warns. I turn around, already knowing what I’m going to see.  
  
Ian is striding toward me, that new confident smirk on his face. It doesn’t matter how many times I see him as he is now; I will always expect the small, dorky kid I fell in love with, the one who played video games and read comic books. He’s got the same dirty blond hair and the same blue eyes, but that’s pretty much it. Since our breakup, he’s gotten taller and broader, a lot more imposing. He’s joined the football team and has a girlfriend named Mandy, who likes to spit in my face.  
  
"Hey, Kelly!" he shouts. He doesn’t even have to say anything else to piss me off.  
  
I scowl. “You’re not allowed to use that name on me anymore.”  
  
"Oh, right. Forgot. Only Vic can now, right? Tell me, Kelly, how’s that going for you?"  
  
Vic tries to hide his emotions, but I can tell that comment hit him. Ian acts as if I date hundreds of guys and Vic’s just my latest fling. He can’t seem to grasp that in reality, we’ve been dating for over a year and are completely loyal to each other.  
  
"It’s going great," I reply smoothly. "I think I’ve been doing better than you have. I mean,  _you’re_ the one who keeps coming back to me.”  
  
With that, I spin around and quickly escape. I don’t know whether or not I’ll make it to my next class, so I round a corner and hide myself in a supply closet. I don’t hear Ian coming after me, but I think I’ll stay here for the rest of the period just in case.  
  
This isn’t just a normal supply closet. About a year ago, some kid a year older than me put a hidden camcorder in it to see just how many secret things it caught. Turns out, he’s discovered a whole shitload of stuff. Other than Vic and I, only the other seniors know about it. (Oli’s the one who told me, and I told Vic.)  
  
I know exactly where the camcorder is, since I’ve holed up in this closet many times. From across the room, I smile and wave at it. This school does have security cameras, but only in the halls and the lobby, and people only check them if they know something is happening. Because I don’t know what to do in here for forty-five minutes, I pull out a white piece of paper, a pencil I never use, and some tape. I fold the paper into fourths, tape it onto the pencil, and wave my homemade “I surrender” flag around. Maybe I’ll use it on Ian.  
  
Although he was the one who broke up with me, Ian holds more of a grudge on me than I do on him, because in his mind, I’m the one who started it. He acts like I brought this on myself.  
  
Let me get something straight:  _I didn’t do anything._  
  
I don’t know what exactly happened, but one day, apparently some kids decided it’d be funny to fuck with our relationship. They started rumors claiming that I was cheating on Ian when I wasn’t, and Ian chose to believe them. He didn’t even talk to me about the issue, didn’t trust me. Instead, he came up to me at the end of the day and punched me in the face. He called me things like a fucking bastard and a son of a bitch, and he didn’t give me any sort of chance to explain myself. To this day, I still think that he was angry enough to have killed me if Oli hadn’t interfered.  
  
Back then, Oli and I barely knew each other. It was this encounter that started our friendship. I don’t know what it was that made Oli decide to get involved, but he did. He stepped in quite literally, actually taking a punch for me, and told Ian to leave me the fuck alone. I guess Ian didn’t want to start something with him, and after a few threats to me, he stopped.  
  
So now our rivalry—if that’s what you want to call it—is one of the most well-known feuds in the school, at least with the juniors and seniors. You’d think other people would try to get involved, but for the most part everyone just kind of knows that it’s our battle. Plus, it’s probably entertaining enough without even having to do anything.  
  
Vic is the one good thing I have that doesn’t remind me of this whole war. Even Oli is tied to it. Vic’s just sort of separate from all the drama, except for days like today where Ian baits him. To be honest, I feel a lot better with him than I ever did with Ian. I’d like to be bold and say I love him, but I’m a little afraid I’ll jinx it. At this point, though, I can’t help but feel optimistic about him. At the end of the day, at least I know that he cares about me, and that’s the only thing I’m sure of.


	2. Forget About It

**Chapter 2 - Vic**  
  
I’m sitting in the car, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel and watching for Kellin. I normally get here before he does because his last class is all the way on the other side of the school. He should be here in the next five minutes, and then I’ll drive us both home.  
  
He disappeared in second period. Was probably in that goddamn closet again. He skips class sometimes to hide in there. Not too often that people have started to catch on, but often enough to worry me. He has these strange habits, hiding in random places and apologizing just a little too much. Nobody else notices, and he doesn’t let anyone else see, but I’m getting the feeling that something is wrong again. Or maybe he’s losing his tolerance of all the usual things that are wrong.  
  
I lean forward in my seat when I see someone walking toward me. It’s not Kellin; it’s Jaime.  
  
"Hey, Vic," he says, smiling as he hops into the passenger seat like he’s supposed to be there.  
  
"Hey," I reply. "Uh…don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you in my car?"  
  
The playfulness fades a little. “To talk to you.”  
  
Sensing that this might take some time, I glance back out into the crowd of kids to make sure Kellin isn’t here yet. With the coast clear, I turn fully in my seat to Jaime. “Okay. Talk to me.”  
  
He clears his throat. “Vic. You’re, uh, a great guy. And we’ve known each other for, um, a long time.”  
  
I nod, narrowing my eyebrows in confusion.  
  
"And, uh…" He trails off. Then he slams his hand on the dashboard. "Okay, fuck it. I’ll get to the point. Vic, I like you, as more than a friend. I know you’ve already got a boyfriend and shit, and maybe this’ll make things awkward between us, but I got tired of pretending and I thought I’d just let you know."  
  
As he confesses all this, his eyes stay right on mine instead of flitting around, which is something Kellin has a tendency to do. Jaime’s straight-on honesty, this boldness and determination to say what he wants to say, is new to me. And…it’s sexy.  
  
What I’ve discovered is that just because you’re dating someone, it doesn’t mean you don’t find other people attractive. It’s not like there’s this switch that turns you off to everyone else in the world, even if you do really care for the person you’re dating.  
  
"Jaime." Before I even realize I’m saying them, the words spill out. "I…I like you, too."  
  
Okay, maybe those weren’t exactly the right words. By that, I meant I have a crush on him. I do. Because I care about Kellin a whole lot more, it’s something I’ve always ignored, and a lot of the time I forget it even exists. But it’s there.  
  
A spark lights up in Jaime’s eyes. “Really?”  
  
Stop it, Vic, I tell myself, but my mouth seems to have a mind of its own. “Yeah, really. I’ve just kind of suppressed it.”  
  
The smile is back in full force, and I can’t help but return it. Jaime leans in closer and whispers, “Would you like to kiss me?”  
  
Panic is starting to set in. I shake my head quickly. “No. I can’t. This isn’t right. You said it yourself. I have a boyfriend.”  
  
He nods knowingly. “You do. We both know you do, and if you don’t want me to, I won’t interfere with that. But if you  _do_  like me…then what’s one kiss?”  
  
I’ve actually thought about this before, about what it’d be like to kiss Jaime. Now that there’s an opportunity, it’s getting increasingly difficult not to take it.  
  
"I can’t," I repeat. "I can’t do this to Kellin."  
  
He puts his hand on mine and raises an eyebrow. “Maybe not. But you want it, don’t you?”  
  
I do. I do want it, and right now it’s here and it’s happening so fast I can barely think. My mind and my heart scream,  _You’re going too far!_  
  
But my mouth? It says, “Yes, Jaime. I really do.”  
  
That sells it. Jaime’s eyes dart to the mostly empty parking lot—still no sign of Kellin—and then back to me. In one swift movement, he pulls me to him and crashes his lips against mine.  
  
I can feel it in the kiss, all his pent-up emotion and passion. He is rough and fast, as if he’s been starving for me (and I guess he has). For the most part, I’m letting him control it, since I’m a bit too stunned to do much at the moment. After few seconds, though, my head is emptied of any second thoughts or paralyzing worries.  
  
I put my hands on his chest and drag myself closer to him as desire takes over my body. Lost in the moment, I can almost convince myself that I’m kissing Kellin, that I’m not doing anything wrong.  
  
Too soon, I feel his mouth disconnect with mine and open my eyes. “God damn,” I breathe. “That was…that was fucking intense.”  
  
Jaime smiles again, a smaller one that somehow looks so innocent yet not innocent at all. “So now you’ve kissed me, and nobody’s gonna know. One time doesn’t hurt anything. If you want me to leave you alone after this, I will, and we can both forget about it. Pretend it never happened.”  
  
I’m still trying to catch my breath. I know what I’m supposed to say. I’m supposed to say that I didn’t enjoy it at all, that I would never think of doing it again, that this ten-minute affair is over. But instead, of course, I say, “I’ll think about it.”  
  
Jaime grins and winks. On anyone else and at any other time it would look weird, but right now it seems strangely fitting. He waves a little and then gets out of the car just as casually as he got in.  
  
 _I’ll think about it? What’s with the hesitation? What the fuck am I doing? This is cheating. This is legitimate cheating and I am going to hell for it._  
  
My conscience begins an endless rant. Half of my brain is listening to that, but the other is still stuck on the kiss.  
  
I was supposed to say I hated it, but that’s a lie. I loved it.


	3. Ain't It Fun

**Chapter 3 - Kellin**  
  
I’m frozen.  
  
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here in the empty parking lot, staring like an idiot, and I don’t care. I can’t hear anything but my heartbeat in my ears. I can’t see anything but the old blue car, and the people in it.  
  
Vic. And Jaime. Kissing.  
  
They haven’t noticed me, but that’s not a surprise. I wouldn’t notice me, either, if I were in the middle of a kiss like that. It’s fast and fiery, and watching them, I automatically want to be Jaime. I want Vic to do that to me.  
  
I rub my eyes, just to verify that it’s real. Sure enough, when the darkness clears away, they’re still there.  
  
Rain drops start to fall, slow at first but gradually speeding up. I should probably go inside, but I can’t move. Besides, that car is my ride home.  
  
 _No. This isn’t happening._  
  
The denial lasts about two seconds and is quickly replaced by anger. My hands are shaking.  _What the hell, Vic? What are you doing, and why with him? Wasn’t I enough?_  
  
I want to run over there and yank the car door open. I want to pull Jaime out and take his place next to Vic. I want to be Vic’s only one.  
  
But my feet carry me in the opposite direction, until I’m leaning against the walls of the school, hiding in the shadows beneath the roof as the rain starts to pour. How fitting.  
  
Things are blurrier back here, but I can clearly see Jaime jump out of the car and head across the lot to his own. He and Vic still haven’t noticed me, and under here I’m less visible.  _I could go to Vic now,_  I think.  _I could climb into his car with him and I could kiss him just as well as Jaime did. Even better. I could make him forget about everyone but me._  
  
It’s the desperation saying all these things. It’s the burning need to convince myself that what just happened was nothing, that Vic still loves me. If he ever did.  
  
I turn and start walking. But not towards the car. I start walking toward the exit of the parking lot, the sidewalk that will eventually lead me home. I don’t care that I’m getting soaked. Vic is going to drive alone today.  
  
I’m still in shock, and the rain distracts me. I try not to think about anything.  
  
At about the halfway point, my phone rings. I take shelter underneath an overhanging tree and glance at the screen. Vic.  
  
I take the call and put the phone up to my ear. “Hello?”  
  
"Kellin."  
  
Somehow, hearing his voice makes everything come rushing back. Involuntarily, I take one of those deep breaths you get right before you burst into tears. I force them back.  
  
"Kellin? You okay?"  
  
"Yeah," I reply. "I’m fine. Why?"  
  
"Because I don’t know where the hell you are." He actually sounds worried. "I thought maybe you had to stay after school for something."  
  
"Oh. No. I decided to walk home today and forgot to tell you. Sorry." I tack the apology on at the end, though I’m not sure why I need it.  
  
"Today? But it’s pouring outside."  
  
"I know. I just wanted the alone time. It’s nothing personal. Today was just…a bad day." Well, at least the last part was the truth.  
  
Vic starts to say something but shuts himself up. He does that a lot, though he’s never done it with me before. He’s always told me exactly what’s on his mind. “Okay,” he says finally. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”  
  
"Yeah," I agree. "Later."  
  
Almost immediately after I hang up, I get another call, this one from my dad. I let my breath out for what seems like the hundredth time today. “Hello?”  
  
"Kellin, where the hell are you? You were supposed to be home fifteen minutes ago."  
  
"Dad, I’m walking home today."  
  
"What? In this weather?" he snaps. "Why?"  
  
"Vic had to leave school early," I lie.  
  
"Well, you could’ve just called. I would’ve picked you up."  
  
"I forgot."  
  
"How far are you from home?"  
  
"I’ll be there in another twenty minutes, Dad," I say impatiently.  
  
Dad sighs, as if our conversations are just as stressful for him as they are for me. They probably are. “Okay, fine. Twenty minutes. I’ll beat your sorry ass if you’re not here by then.”  
  
I don’t know whether or not he means it, and I’m not too eager to find out. “Yeah, that makes me  _real_  excited to come home,” I mutter. “Looking forward to it.” He ends the call.  
  
Despite my sarcasm, I’m more in a hurry to get back now. Even though I run like hell half the time, I guess that when I talked to Dad, I didn’t realize how far I was from the house. I walk through the front door about twenty-five minutes after the phone call. It doesn’t matter that I was only five minutes off; by the time I can escape up to my room, my cheek is stinging and my left eye is throbbing.  
  
Dad often says he’s going to hit me and then doesn’t, so sometimes it’s hard to predict when he’s serious. Mom doesn’t try to stop it because she barely knows about it. Dad has only hit me once or twice in front of her, and both times it was just a couple smacks, not as bad as it would have been if she hadn’t been there. I’m used to it by now. It doesn’t happen every day, and I can sometimes go weeks without injury so that I think he’s stopped. But it comes back. It always comes back.  
  
As soon as I slam the door behind me and lock it, everything comes rushing back again like when Vic called me earlier. This time, I don’t choke the tears back, though I try to keep quiet. Dad’ll come up again if he hears me.  
  
"Fuck you," I whisper, my voice shaky.  
  
The last time I said that to Vic, we were both laughing, and I was just kidding, and Vic replied, “You wish.” That memory used to make me smile, but now it just hurts.  
  
I kick my shoes off, jump into my bed, and bury my face into my pillow. “I hate you,” I say, my voice muffled. “I hate you. I hate you.”  
  
The worst part is, I’m lying. I don’t hate him.  
  
I sit up and try to calm myself down. Then I pick up my phone and call Oli.  
  
"Kellin? What is it?"  
  
"I need you to come over. Please."  
  
He immediately recognizes the urgent tone in my voice. “Okay. I’ll be right there.”  
  
Oli’s parents don’t really care what he does; they’re used to him unexpectedly leaving the house. You’d think he’d turn into a delinquent or something, and a lot of people seem to see him that way, but in reality the most “delinquent”-type thing he’s ever done is get the tattoos. He’s just a bit quiet, and I think most people mistake that for hostility.  
  
Oli can’t park in the driveway or come in through the front door because of my parents, and he never has. Instead, he parks about a block away and walks to my house. He climbs through my window using a trellis that sits right next to it. My dad did find faint footprints on it once, but he assumed it had been me sneaking out. The next thing I knew, I had three bruises.  
  
Sometimes Oli sleeps over. Most of the time I don’t want him to have to risk getting caught, but he insists. When he does sleep over, it’s in the closet. Good thing he doesn’t snore. Otherwise, we’d have been screwed a thousand times over.  
  
Ten minutes later, I hear the familiar soft tapping at my window. When I open it up, Oli gives me a weak smile. “Your therapist is here.”  
  
"Good. I could use one."  
  
Oli hops into my room and closes the window, grimacing as he looks me over.  
  
I wince. “Is it that bad?”  
  
"It’s…it’s noticeable." He nods grimly.  
  
Nobody ever suspects that my scars come from my dad. They all assume it’s because of Ian. He does beat me up occasionally, so it’s not exactly inaccurate.  
  
"So," Oli says, "did anything out-of-the-ordinary happen this time? Or did you just kind of…need me?"  
  
I’m about to say that, yes, something big did happen. I’m about to tell him everything, but I can’t speak. If I tell people about it, that’ll make it real, and maybe if I ignore it long enough, we can forget about it. “Uh…I just kind of needed you. Today wasn’t great.”  
  
"You wanna talk about it?" He sits down on my bed.  
  
I shake my head. “No. I just need a distraction or something right now.”  
  
Oli heads to the other side of the room, reaches down next to my TV, and grabs an Xbox controller. “Would shooting zombies take your mind off of it, then?”  
  
"Yeah. My dad’s probably taking his nap, so I’m guessing we have until around six to be as loud as we want." Oli scowls when I mention the nap. My dad always takes one right after he hits me. I guess it’s tiring to beat up your kid for being five minutes late.  
  
"After that, though," I continue, "you’ll need to control your…outbursts."  
  
The scowl turns into a grin. He knows exactly what I’m talking about.  
  
Sure enough, about ten minutes later, Oli is shaking his controller and yelling, “Fuck! Fuck you. Fucking—fuck! What the fuck—fucking hell.”  
  
I laugh at this, and he whacks me in the shoulder. I just laugh harder. This is why I call Oli more often than I call Vic when something bad happens. Sometimes it’s not exactly the boyfriend you need. Sometimes, you just need a good friend.  
  
On the screen, I begin to imagine that every zombie I kill is Jaime, that with every gunshot I’m getting closer to Vic. I pretend that once Oli and I have prevented the apocalypse, Vic will kiss me again, just like he kissed Jaime.


	4. The First Punch

**Chapter 4 - Vic**  
  
When Kellin sits down in the passenger seat the next morning, he’s got a black eye.  
  
"Whoa. What happened?" I ask, though I already know the answer.  
  
"Dad happened." He stares at himself in the mirror, trying to fix his hair so it at least partly covers his eye. "That’s not what we tell people, though. The story is that Ian gave me a piece of his mind."  
  
"Doesn’t he ever set anybody straight? Hasn’t he ever been like, ‘No, I never gave him that black eye’?"  
  
Kellin shakes his head. “Nah. He’d rather take credit for it. Makes him look tougher or some shit.”  
  
We’re both silent for a few seconds. Then I say, “So, how’d it happen this time?”  
  
"I was, uh, late."  
  
Damn it. That’s my fault, isn’t it? I should’ve driven him home. “Oh. Sorry about that.”  
  
"What? No. I chose to walk home. My dad called when I was about halfway there and asked when I’d be back, and I guessed about twenty minutes. Well, I was wrong. It was twenty-five." He scowls and looks out the window.  
  
"Fuck. He hit you for being five minutes off?" I always knew the guy seemed a bit crazy, but who would hit their kid for that?  
  
"Yep. I think he was just using that as an excuse. He always finds the dumbest reasons."  
  
The conversation sort of dies down after this. It feels so much more right seeing Kellin sitting next to me. He’s the one that’s supposed to be there, not Jaime. The guilt comes back the longer I watch him out of the corner of my eye.  
  
Finally, without turning to face me, he says, “Stop looking at me like I’m a head case.”  
  
"I’m not."  
  
Then he does face me. “Well, you’re thinking it. You’re always thinking it.”  
  
I laugh bitterly. “Kells, we’re all head cases.”  
  
He smiles a little, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Those eyes are dull and pained.  
  
He nods toward the road. “Eyes on the road, Victor,” he says softly. Any other time it would’ve been funny, especially since he called me by my full name, but right now it just sounds kind of final. Like something is ending.  
  
I sigh and turn my attention back to driving. “You distract me too much,” I tease, trying to make a joke out of it.  
  
Kellin smiles again, a sad smile. “Yeah. I guess I do.”  
  
But I can tell he’s sort of checked out. His mind is in a different place. He’s thinking…what’s he thinking? Maybe he’s thinking that he is a head case, that his family is fucked up. Maybe he’s thinking that I deserve someone better than him. I know he’s thought it before.  
  
Maybe he’s thinking about how easily he thinks he could be replaced.  
  
As this possibility crosses my mind, we reach the school. I park in the nearest empty space and turn to face Kellin fully. “Kellin. I care about you, okay? I want you to get that through your head. I. Care. About. You.”  
  
He still has that dazed look in his eyes. Nodding mechanically, he says, “Okay. You care about me.”  
  
He used to give me a sad look similar to this one. But the difference between this one and that one is that the one he used to give me was one that suggested I cared too much about him. This one suggests that I don’t care at all.  
  
Suddenly, I grab Kellin by his shirt and pull him toward me. The kiss definitely catches him off guard, but he quickly adjusts. He tangles his fingers in my hair. I know his emotions just by the feel of him and the way his body moves. He’s excited—that’s undeniable—but there’s also some eagerness. He wants to satisfy me.  
  
But wait—that wasn’t my intention. I don’t want him to see how much he can please me; I want to show him how much I want to please him. I do want to please him. I want him to be happy.  
  
I break the kiss off. Kellin blinks a few times to right himself. “What did I do?”  
  
"Kellin," I say, catching my breath. "You have to understand. That wasn’t for me. That was for you."  
  
He narrows his eyes in confusion. “So, what, you didn’t like it, or…?”  
  
I almost smack myself in the forehead on impulse, but I know that’ll just make him feel stupid. “I did. What I’m trying to show you is that I love doing these things to you. For you. That I’m going to fight for you just as much as you’ll fight for me.”  
  
I know exactly why I’m trying so hard to prove this. Part of it is to reassure him, but the other part is to convince myself. Kellin is my boyfriend, and I love him. I have never doubted this before. Now I need both of us to know that I’ll never leave, because the image of Jaime sitting where Kellin is, telling me that my boyfriend will never find out, haunts me with every breath I take.  
  
—  
  
The moment I step out of my first period class, I know something is happening.  
  
Most of the kids in the hallway are sort of clustered to my right or at least looking in that direction. Then I hear his voice: “Your boyfriend’s not gonna save you now, Kelly.”  
  
Ian.  
  
He’s trapped Kellin in one corner of the hallway. Normally this would bring out the fearless side of him, the one where he spits out comebacks that are at least half-decent, the one that lets his anger control him in the best way possible. Today, though—and maybe I’m partly to blame for this—he just looks like he’s about to cry.  
  
 _Hell fucking no, I think. You picked the wrong day to mess with us._  
  
I push through the crowd of people to stand in front of Kellin. “Back off. He’s mine, Ian. Why can’t you accept that?”  
  
The crowd quiets down in anticipation. “It’s funny,” he says, “how you act like you’re all set in stone. Nothing’s set in stone, especially not relationships. He’s a cheater, Vic.”  
  
"It’s funny," I spit back, "how you act like you’re so over him. Like you’re completely straight and never felt anything for him. If that was really true, you probably wouldn’t even care enough to keep harassing him. It’s been…what, two years? What do you even do all day when you’re not making him miserable?"  
  
Everyone is stunned. Ian opens his mouth, trying to come up with a suitable response, but I’m not done. I won’t let him or anyone else talk about Kellin that way.  
  
"Ian, Kellin is my boyfriend. Do you understand that? He is nobody else’s; he is mine, and I’m proud to say that. He’s mine." I turn around to see him and hold my hand out. "And I am his."  
  
He reaches forward, takes my hand, and holds up our locked fingers. With his own free hand, he flips everyone off. The fear has been replaced with a look of triumph. Pride. Confidence. “Now, if you’ll excuse us,” he says, “I’m pretty sure we’ve all got classes to go to.” He motions to the hallway clock. “And the late bell’s gonna ring soon, so you better run.”  
  
Physically, no blows have been exchanged. But we can all feel it in the air: Something new has started. The first punch has been thrown.  
  
—  
  
I’m sitting in the car, waiting for Kellin. It’s the same scene as yesterday, but this time the script is different. It should be, anyways.  
  
I start to drift into a daydream of some sort when I’m dropped back into reality by the sound of a car door opening and closing. I turn, expecting to see Kellin…but it’s not. It’s Jaime. Again.  
  
"Uh…what are you doing?" I ask.  
  
"Is it okay if I come over to your house for a little bit? Feels like I never get to see you."  
  
Well, he’s not lying there. For all the years we’ve known each other, we’ve always had a bunch of classes together, but now we don’t have any. It might be springtime and the school year might be almost over, but I’m still not completely used to never getting to talk to him.  
  
"Uh…you can if you want," I say. "I assume your parents are okay with it?"  
  
"Mm-hmm. I just talked to them about it so they don’t panic. Told ‘em I’ll be home by five-thirty."  
  
"Okay, then. We’re dropping Kellin off first, though," I add.  
  
As if on cue, he wanders out of the school and starts walking toward us. I roll my window down and tap on the side of the car to get his attention. “Hey,” I say when he leans down to talk to me. “So, uh…” I gesture to Jaime in the passenger seat. “This just kinda happened.” I give him an I-didn’t-exactly-plan-this look. “Want to hop in the back? Jaime’s coming over after I drop you off.”  
  
Kellin stares blankly at Jaime for a few seconds before nodding absently. “Yeah, I’ll get into the back.”  
  
On the drive home, he doesn’t say much. Jaime does most of the talking, and I let him. Really, though, I’m only paying minimal attention to what he’s saying. I know that every time I sneak a glance back at Kellin, every time I see his sullen, jealous demeanor, it’ll just make me feel guilty. I don’t think he’s doing it on purpose—it’s not his fault that I can see what he’s feeling—but all of a sudden I just want him out of the car. My mouth is saying something, but I can’t even understand myself because I’m too busy staring at him staring at me.  
  
 _Go sulk by yourself,_  I think. Immediately I regret it because I don’t mean it.  
  
"Fine, I will, then."  
  
Hearing Kellin say that is what makes me realize that I’ve slipped up. Oh, shit.  
  
I didn’t think it. I said it.  
  
"No—I didn’t mean—" I stammer, and then I notice that his car door’s been unlocked. But I locked them all when we left.  
  
Kellin reaches for the door handle and pulls it. The door whips open, and he jumps.  
  
" _Kellin!_ " I shout, slamming on the brakes and sticking my head out the window.  
  
He’s standing up and looking at us. His hands and knees are bleeding, but I don’t think he cares. What I’m worried about right now is the fact that he’s standing in the middle of the road and not moving. It’s empty right now because it’s kind of a back road, but I can hear another car getting closer in the distance.  
  
“Kellin!” I scream. “Get the hell out of the road!”  
  
He starts walking toward us, but he’s still in the middle of the lane.  
  
Hysteria starts to take over. “Kellin, get out of the fucking road! You’re fucking crazy, do you hear me?  _Crazy_!”  
  
Jaime doesn’t say anything. I think he knows to let me go when I’m like this.  
  
The other car comes around the corner, and I open the door and jump out of my own. I grab Kellin by his shirt and yank him over to the sidewalk.  
  
The car skids to a stop, and the lady driving glances back at us in surprise. “Just keep driving!” I yell at her. “You never saw this!”  
  
Reluctantly, she starts to drive again. I don’t think she completely understands what just happened. She’ll probably get it later, though, after the shock wears off.  
  
I turn to Kellin. He’s still kind of dazed, like he doesn’t really know what’s happening, either. I don’t think any of us do.  
  
"Kellin," I pant, "what do you think you’re doing?"  
  
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Sulking. I thought I’d stop by the therapist, too, since according to you I need professional help.”  
  
The last part confuses me. “Wait, what? When did I say that?”  
  
"Uh, just now, right before I jumped."  
  
I blink a few times. “Tell me what I said. Exactly.”  
  
Kellin gets into the voice he uses while reciting something. “‘Kellin, I’m so sick and tired of you always looking at me like that. I can’t help you; do you realize that? You need professional help. Know why? Because you’re fucking insane, that’s why. I can’t keep driving with you here staring at me like that. Go sulk by yourself.’ That ring a bell?”  
  
It takes me a few seconds to catch up. “I said  _what_? I really said all that?”  
  
"Yep." He shrugs again, like it’s no big deal. "I’m sorry. For…staring at you. Or for being crazy. Or whatever else I need to apologize for." Then he starts to walk away from me.  
  
"Kellin, wait! I didn’t—I never meant any of that!"  
  
He keeps walking away, acting like he doesn’t hear me.  
  
Sighing, I get back into the car. “Jaime,” I say slowly, “what did I say to Kellin to make him jump out?”  
  
Jaime makes an oh-you-just-kind-of-emotionally-beat-the-shit-out-of-him face. “Well,” he begins, “I think you said something like…” Then he proceeds to say almost exactly what Kellin told me I said.  
  
I bang my head on the steering wheel. “I said that?  _All_  of that?”  
  
He nods sheepishly. “Yep. I was scared for him, actually. You were…a bit harsh.”  
  
I close my eyes for a few seconds before opening them again. “Okay,” I say, in a tone that implies that the conversation is over. “Let’s get home.”  
  
The rest of the ride is silent. I think we’re both trying to take everything in, and gradually the memory of what I said to Kellin comes back. I can hear my own voice snapping at him, telling him things I don’t actually mean or believe, and it kills me.  
  
My mind is somewhere else when we get to my house. My mom starts talking to us, asking us questions about school or something. Jaime answers all of them, and after a few minutes, we head upstairs.  
  
I put my phone on the side table and sit down on the bed, still lost inside my head. I can’t stop thinking, and those thoughts are all stuck on Kellin. “Jaime,” I say. “I need to stop thinking about this. Distract me.”  
  
He looks up. “Distract you with what?”  
  
"I don’t know. Something. Anything, I guess."  
  
As soon as I say it, I know exactly what he’s going to do. I almost take it back, almost tell him he can’t do what I know he wants to do. Almost.  
  
He sits down next to me. He knows I know. “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”  
  
When I open my mouth, I expect to tell him not to. I expect to say that we’re just friends, that what happened yesterday was nothing. But, of course, that’s not what I say. What I say is, “I do want you to.”  
  
So he does.  
  
A wide range of emotions go through me during this kiss. First is the excitement and relief, the sensation of all my worries flooding from me. For a while I just enjoy it, emptying my mind of everything but Jaime, the feel of his lips and his hands. That’s when the comparisons start in. I should’ve known they’d come.  
  
I begin to think about Jaime’s hands in relation to Kellin’s smaller ones. I think about whether or not Kellin’s lips are slightly softer than Jaime’s (they are) and whether or not Jaime uses his tongue more roughly (he does). Then my brain reminds me that I may never get to experience those slightly softer lips or slightly smaller hands or that slightly more hesitant tongue ever again. Will he even want to look at me anymore, or am I overreacting?  
  
I pull away. “Jaime,” I gasp, “I can’t do this.”  
  
Jaime slowly lets go of me and slides away until no part of him is touching me. He nods. “Okay. I understand. You need to fix things with your boyfriend.”  
  
I nod back. “Yeah.” I stand up and head for the bathroom, trying and failing to chase away the dizziness. I don’t have a virus or anything; it’s just that the already-suffocating guilt, this new but prominent hatred of myself and what I’ve done, makes me physically sick to my stomach.


	5. I Don't Wanna Be In Love

**Chapter 5 - Kellin**  
  
“Fuck. He said all that?”  
  
I lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. “Yeah.”  
  
It’s the second time I’ve asked Oli to come over this week, and though I feel kind of bad for doing it, I couldn’t really think straight when I called him. I spilled as soon as he was outside my window, before he could even get in, because I was too disoriented to think about stopping myself.  
  
"Okay, well, here’s another thing I’m stuck on: What the fuck were you doing in the middle of the road?"  
  
I should’ve known this question was coming.  
  
"Honestly, I don’t know." And that’s the truth.  
  
"How don’t you know? What did you think you were doing? What were you trying to prove?"  
  
"I don’t know," I repeat. "It was all just a blur, okay? It was like there wasn’t any thinking involved. I was just all of a sudden jumping out of the car and then bleeding on the ground."  
  
As I say this, I examine my hands and knees. I have Band-Aids all over them. I feel like a little kid that fell down on the playground. “If anything else happens to me this week, I’m gonna end up looking like an old rag-doll that a dog chewed up,” I say.  
  
"It’s not that bad—" Oli begins before cutting himself off. "Okay, yeah, it is pretty bad."  
  
I sit up, not sure what to say. I still haven’t told him that Vic and Jaime were making out yesterday, and I don’t have any intention to. It’s like the secret has made its home inside of me already and I can’t let it escape.  
  
"Well," Oli says, "if I know anything about Vic, it’s that when he gets pissed, he gets pissed. That kind of pissed where you don’t even know what you’re saying. So I’m gonna guess that he didn’t mean what he said to you.” He grabs my phone and unlocks it. “But that does  _not_  make it okay or something you can just brush off.”  
  
"What are you doing?" I ask, leaning over his shoulder. He’s scrolling through my contacts.  
  
"Calling Vic. You two need to have a chat."  
  
"What?" I reach for the phone, but he holds it up above my head, reveling in his greater height. "Hey! Give me that!"  
  
He shakes his head, grinning. “Nope. I’m not letting you ignore this problem, Kellin, as I know you love to do.”  
  
I glare at him, but he’s completely unaffected. “Here,” he says, handing it to me. “Just call him. Talk to him. Use the power of words or some shit.” He points over his shoulder at the window with his thumb. “I’ll leave if you want me to. That way it’s kind of, I don’t know, private.”  
  
"Oli, you don’t have to do this—"  
  
"Oh, yes, I do." He points at the phone. "Call him." He turns, opens the window, and climbs down, leaving me with the cell phone in my hand. Obediently, I call Vic and put it up to my ear.  
  
He answers on the second ring. “Hello?”  
  
But it’s not Vic. It’s Jaime.  
  
"Jaime? Where’s Vic?"  
  
"Bathroom. Why, did you want to talk to him?"  
  
"Uh, that was kind of the plan."  
  
"Kellin, I hate to break it to you, but Vic’s not exactly as loyal as you think he is."  
  
"What do you mean?" Stupid question. I know what he means.  
  
"Well, let me just say that either he’s naturally a great kisser, or you taught him to be one. And if it’s the second option, then thanks."  
  
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Jaime is making no attempt to hide what he and Vic have been doing. It’s like he already knows he’s won Vic over, completely swayed him from me. I can hear the cockiness in his voice. I’ve never seen this side of him before. He’s always seemed so nice, but maybe that’s just a disguise.  
  
"Jaime," I say firmly, surprising myself with my boldness. "I want to talk to Vic." Now that Oli has given me the motivation, I really do want to talk with him.  
  
At that moment, I hear Vic in the background. “Jaime, who are you talking to?”  
  
"Kellin," Jaime replies. "He wants to speak with you, apparently. Unless you don’t want to."  
  
 _Bastard,_  I think.  _Why wouldn’t he want to talk to me?_  Then I remember his anger in the car, how it truly felt like he hated me, and I answer my own question.  
  
"Yeah, I want to," Vic says. "Give it to me." I can imagine him holding his hand out.  
  
After a few seconds of shuffling, I hear his voice in my ear, louder and clearer. “I sent Jaime downstairs. He’s gonna hang out there for, like, ten minutes. Maybe get some snacks or something.” He pauses. “Kellin…I’m sorry.”  
  
As he says this, the memories reveal themselves again. Vic yelling at me, telling me things I already knew but didn’t think he believed. My hand impulsively on the door handle. The sudden rush of air, the fall, the stinging in my hands and knees that I barely felt. Vic’s voice calling to me, trying to break through a deadly haze in my mind. The car coming around the corner, and the strong hands I’d know anywhere pulling me to safety. The way he sounded so desperate and overwhelmed and wrecked. The fact that even as I walked away, even as I heard his insults in my head, I just wanted to run back to him and tell him to never leave me.  
  
"Kellin? You okay?"  
  
Vic breaks through my flashbacks and makes me realize that as I’ve been reliving it all, I’ve been standing here like an idiot and not saying anything. “Yeah,” I say, my voice cracking. “Yeah, I’m okay.”  
  
"No, you’re not. Tell me what you’re thinking."  
  
I sit down in a beanbag chair I use when I play Xbox. “Okay, Vic. What I’m thinking is that what you said hurt, but it’s nothing I didn’t already know. That’s just what I’ve been trying to show you all my life. I guess I got so used to you never believing it that it shook me when you finally got the hint.”  
  
"Is…" I think he’s having trouble catching up. "Is this what you meant every time you told me not to hang around you too much? Was it because you thought you were crazy?"  
  
I think back to every time I’ve ever told Vic to go away, to save himself. I think back to every time he never listened to me when I told him that he deserved someone better than me, how upset and frustrated I would get, how convinced I was that he was wasting his life on me. Now I think he understands that, and that’s why he let it all out today. That’s why he goes to Jaime. Soon he’ll break up with me, so he won’t have to keep it a secret anymore.  
  
"Yeah," I say. "Because I  _am_  crazy. You said it yourself.”  
  
"Kellin, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t know what I was saying.  _I_  was the crazy one.”  
  
"Vic," I say, my voice shaking, "it’s okay. I know what you think of me. I’m still just kind of surprised, and I don’t know if it’s because it took you this long to figure it out, or because you figured it out at all." I try to laugh, but even I can hear how pathetic it sounds.  
  
"Kellin, you probably think that I think you’re stupid or a fuck-up or worthless, and if you do think that, then you’re dead wrong. Dead wrong." His voice is quiet and deadly calm, with an angry undercurrent that scares me. "I didn’t have to figure anything out. Crazy isn’t the right word for you, Kellin. You’re not crazy; it’s just that there’s something wrong. I know something’s wrong, and so do you, and it’s just that today it pissed me off. It’s hard to watch you sometimes, and I just didn’t stop to think. At all."  
  
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say, “I’m sorry?”  
  
I can literally hear him smack his forehead, and in a sad way it’s kind of amusing. “Kellin, you don’t have to apologize for that. It’s not your fault if something’s wrong. You seem to have a way of turning things around and finding a reason to blame them on yourself.”  
  
"I know."  
  
He’s silent for a few seconds. “Okay, I think Jaime is coming back up soon. But I just want you to know that I don’t think badly of you. I didn’t mean what I said. Promise me that you’ll remember that.”  
  
I nod, though he can’t see it. “I’ll remember, Vic.”  
  
He sighs in relief. “Okay. Thank you.” With that, he hangs up.  
  
Only a few seconds later, a text message from Jaime pops up on the screen. This can’t be good, I think, opening it up. It says:  
  
 _I’d like to tell you to kindly fuck off. Within days, I’m pretty sure your boyfriend will be wrapped around my finger. That is all._  
  
I throw the phone across the room, clenching my fists in a sudden rage. “Vic is mine,” I whisper, closing my eyes and taking deep breaths. “He’s mine. Mine.”  
  
It reminds me of the confrontation with Ian, and this gives me a surge of hope and determination. Vic is mine. I am his. That’s what he told Ian, that’s what he expressed to everyone watching, and that’s what we showed with our hands locked together. I’m not going to let Jaime take him away from me just like that.  
  
"He’s mine," I repeat, hearing my own voice grow stronger. "He’s mine, damn it."  
  
—  
  
When Vic picks me up the next day, he hugs me wordlessly. It’s kind of an awkward position in the car, but I let him anyways. It’s a pretty nice feeling: his body against mine, not in a sexy way or anything; just the comfort of human contact, I guess. He hugs me for so long that when he lets go, I have to remind myself what it’s like to not be touching someone else.  
  
The drive to school isn’t dramatic. We talk about nothing, purposely ignoring the events of yesterday. I think we’re both determined to keep them in that time period, to make sure those memories don’t move forward with us.  
  
Vic and I separate when we enter the school because our lockers are in different directions. When I get to mine, I glance over to my left, where Jaime’s locker is. Sure enough, he’s there, about ten feet away. At the sight of him, the anger rises up inside me again. After getting what I need from my locker, I close it and walk over. “Hey.”  
  
He closes his own locker and turns to face me. “Hey. What’s up?” He looks perfectly innocent, as if he doesn’t even remember yesterday. He must be a good actor, though.  
  
"Jaime, I’d like to say that you’re the one who needs to fuck off. Vic and I are already in a relationship and I’m not letting you get in the way of that."  
  
Jaime raises his eyebrows. “How interesting for you to say that.”  
  
He says this ominously, the way a creepy villain in a movie would say it, which I’m sure was his intention. It makes me wonder if Jaime and Vic haven’t just been making out behind my back. It makes me wonder if they’ve been doing other things, if Jaime means more to Vic than I give him credit for.  
  
"I’m not just gonna hand him over to you," I say. "If you want him that badly, you’re gonna have to work for him."  
  
He nods, like he expected this. “Then I’ll work.”  
  
The first bell rings, so I leave him there and walk to first period, but not before glancing back over my shoulder and adding, “So I guess this is war.”  
  
Jaime smiles smugly. “Come at me.”  
  
I return the smile. “Some other time.”  
  
After the first class ends, as we’re switching to second, I notice quite a few people watching me and whispering. A group of girls are trying to keep their insults out of my earshot and failing. I’m used to hearing things like “fag” and “loser”—I get those on a regular basis—but what catches me off-guard is when one girl says, “I kind of feel sorry for him. Gay boy’s getting cheated on.”  
  
I nearly stop in my tracks at that one but remind myself to continue walking. A guy points at my black eye and shouts, “Hey! Fag! Did you get into another car crash?” He doesn’t even know about the scratches from yesterday (I took the Band-Aids off) because I’m wearing jeans and he can’t see my hands.  
  
I act like I didn’t hear him. I thought everyone had forgotten about what happened at the beginning of September. It’s April now. Nobody has mentioned that car crash since it happened, when I ended up in a collision with another crazy driver. He died, that driver. Luckily, no charges were pressed against me. It’s not like I wanted to kill him, or even get into that crash in the first place. Still, I’ve been trying to forget about it.  
  
Another thing that gets to me is how everyone is calling me gay or a fag. I’m not the only gay kid in the school, but I guess I’m the only one who’s open about it. Vic is bisexual and has dated a few girls before—he’s said that though he has a slight preference for girls over guys, he tends to be more emotionally connected to guys. I’ve known him since we were kids and we’ve seen each other through our past relationships with other people; both of us have agreed that his longest and most serious relationship was with me.  
  
Second period isn’t much better than the past few minutes have been. It’s another boring lecture, and the other kids seem to divide their time between doodling in their notebooks and taunting me. They’ll flip me off, make faces at me, whisper things just loud enough for me to hear. People whisper to Vic, too, and every time someone says something, his eyes widen and he says something defensive to make the kid shut up.  
  
About halfway through, I tear a piece of paper out of my notebook and start writing down the things I hear. By the time the class is over, it’s a full collage.  
  
While transitioning to third period, Oli comes up to me. “Hey. I wanted to talk to you about something real quick. Mind skipping this period?”  
  
"I would love to."  
  
He leads me around the corner to a supply closet, not the one with the camcorder in it. He closes the door behind us and flicks on the light. “Kellin, I feel like I’ve been keeping secrets from you.”  
  
My heart starts beating faster. “What do you mean?”  
  
He sits down on the floor. “I mean I’d like to clear some things up. About, uh, me.”  
  
I sit down next to him. “Like?”  
  
He sighs. “Like that I, uh, like you. And it sounds kind of stupid and juvenile to say it that way, but I don’t know how else to put it. What can I say? You got past my guard, Kells.”  
  
I try to hide my surprise behind a teasing smile. “Well, you picked the wrong person to fall in love with.”  
  
He smiles back. “Why, because you’ve got a boyfriend? Yeah, I know, and I respect that.”  
  
I shake my head. I’m about to say that it’s because he could do so much better, but then I rethink it. I’m not going to tell Oli this. “How did I get past your guard?” I ask.  
  
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I just took a liking to you. You weren’t fake, and you didn’t say a whole lot, so you saw everything. And you care about people.”  
  
"No, I don’t," I protest. "I only have, like, two people I care about."  
  
"Maybe so, but you really care about those two people. I know you do. I’ve seen it."  
  
Suddenly I can’t stay in here. I stand up. “I have to…I have to be alone.”  
  
He looks up. “Wait.”  
  
My hand rests on the door handle. “What?”  
  
"Did you call Vic?"  
  
I nod. “Yeah. We, uh…we worked it out.” Before he can say anything else, I slide out of the closet and into the hall. I’m not going back to class, so instead I head to the nearby boys’ bathroom and lock myself in a stall.  
  
Oli’s in love with me. It’s such a strange thought, maybe because I’ve never seen him in love before. The worst part is that I know Oli, and I know he could make someone happy, and I know he deserves a lot of that in return. And I can’t give him that.  
  
What does this mean, then? I’ve never really thought of Oli as anything but a friend, but now I can’t stop my curiosity.  
  
 _And if Vic can cheat on me, then why can’t I cheat on him?_  
  
The thought is so sudden and unexpected that it nearly knocks me off my feet. I banish it as soon as it arrives, but even as I try to distract myself, it dances right on the edge, and I know it’s there. Now that I’ve thought it, I can’t un-think it, and already I feel guilty.  _No. We’re just friends. Vic is my boyfriend._  
  
This used to be simple. Simpler, at least. But now? Damn it, love hurts. I guess I should’ve remembered that. Maybe I don’t want to be in love with Vic.  
  
 _But where would I be then?_  I wonder, and this is what helps me steady my breathing. Vic is my boyfriend. He’s mine. And I am his.


	6. Take This To Heart

**Chapter 6 - Vic**  
  
People keep asking me if it’s true that I’m cheating on Kellin, and every time I ask them where they heard that, they say Ian’s been talking about it all day. Big surprise there. I don’t know if he saw me and Jaime in the car the other day or if he just thinks he’s spreading a lie around, but it’s not good either way. By now I think the rumor has reached all corners of the school. Even some of the teachers are giving me weird looks.  
  
"Hey," Kellin says as I sit down next to him during lunchtime. "So there’s a rumor going around that you’re cheating on me."  
  
"No kidding. What else is new?" I reply. "It’s not true. Ian’s just cooking up shit."  
  
"As usual," he adds smoothly.  
  
To anyone listening, our conversation wouldn’t seem like much. But throughout the whole thing, my brain keeps whispering,  _Liar. You’re a liar. It is true; Ian just doesn’t know that._  
  
I’m so distracted by these thoughts, I almost don’t take note of Kellin’s behavior. But I do. I always do.  
  
"Hey, are you okay?" I ask. "You look a bit…beat."  
  
Wrong word choice. I know it as soon as I say it. He glances at me and doesn’t say anything; he just kind of stares. Even partly hidden behind his hair, his black eye is still visible. I’m so used to seeing him this way that I barely remember what he looks like without a single scar on him. I don’t know if what he’s staring at is me or something unseen, a flashback of some sort, but after a few seconds his body kind of jerks and he blinks a few times. Must’ve been the flashback thing.  
  
"Uh, no, I’m okay," he stutters, but it’s obvious now that he’s not okay. He never is anymore.  
  
"Hey," I say, trying to change the subject. "Do you want to sleep over at my house tonight? If your parents let you, I mean."  
  
He nods and smiles. “Yes. Please. I’ll go even if they don’t let me. Sneak out through the window or something.”  
  
I watch Kellin closely for the rest of the day and find that people are giving him shit about the rumor, too. Someone actually asks him how it feels to be on the receiving end, assuming that the boy who supposedly cheated on his past boyfriend is now getting cheated on by his current one.  
  
It’s the only thing that’s on my mind, and I’m sure Ian would be glad to know that. It’s enough that I have to remember what Jaime and I have done without everyone talking about it. I’ve figured out that the story Ian is telling everyone is that he saw Jaime and I making out last week. He really does think he’s just making the whole thing up. Jaime and I were not making out at all last week, and if you’d have asked me on Monday whether or not we ever had, I would’ve been able to truthfully say no. But it’s Thursday now, and Ian doesn’t realize that part of what he’s claiming is real.  
  
The more I think about this, the less I can look at Kellin without feeling disgusted with myself.  _It’s not cheating,_  I tell myself.  _It’s not cheating. You never meant to do this, and you still care about Kellin, so it’s not actually cheating._  In the end, though, I don’t believe it. Not even a little.  
  
After school, I drive Kellin home, but instead of dropping him off and leaving, I wait in the driveway while he goes inside and talks to his father. About five minutes later, he comes back outside and gives me a thumbs up before returning to the car.  
  
"At first he was kind of skeptical because it’s a school night," he says, "but I told him it’d be easier this way because then you wouldn’t have to pick me up." He laughs nervously. "He, uh, asked where I’m going to sleep."  
  
I raise my eyebrows. His dad doesn’t know we usually share a bed. “What’d you say?”  
  
"I said probably the couch. I think he was kind of out of it. He didn’t say too much."  
  
"Good thing."  
  
And so the evening passes like a normal, casual one, the first one I’ve had with Kellin in a while. With him by my side, I can feel comfortable and relaxed. I can forget about everything else for a little while and just enjoy the fact that he’s here.  
  
At about eleven, I remember something about our conversation from yesterday. “Hey, Kellin,” I say as we’re both lying on my bed. “Do you remember? What I told you to remember?”  
  
He looks confused at first, but then I guess something clicks. “Yeah, I remember. Like you told me to.”  
  
"Do you believe it? That I didn’t mean it? That I don’t think of you that way?" Suddenly it seems very important that I make sure he knows this.  
  
He shakes his head slightly. “Not really. Sorry.”  
  
"Well, you have to." I sit up.  
  
He does, too. “But Vic, I just…did you mean what you said? Not in the car, but before that. With Ian. I want to know if you meant all that.”  
  
I inch closer to him so that our legs are touching. “Yes. I meant all that. I feel like…well, I think there are two types of anger, Kellin: the type where you say things you don’t mean, and the type where you say everything on your mind. And I guess I went through both of them yesterday.”  
  
Kellin looks at me strangely. Then, without warning, he leans forward, grabs me by my chin, and pulls me in for a kiss, shoving himself against me. I can already tell what he’s trying for, and I’d love to give him what he wants. I push him backward onto the bed and climb on top of him, our lips still locked, as he lifts my shirt half-up and takes ahold of my hips. I stop kissing him just long enough for him to remove said shirt completely and for me to pull his off, too, but within seconds our bodies are crushed back together, our eyes closed.  
  
He takes one hand away from my hips and wraps it around my neck, pulling me even closer. Biting his lower lip softly, I slowly inch my hands up his body and lightly brush my fingers against a large scar running across his chest. He flinches and breaks the kiss.  
  
I open my eyes and gaze into his. “Too far?” I ask.  
  
He stares at me for a few seconds before reaching over and flicking the lights off. Then he repositions both hands on my hips and starts to slide my jeans down. “Not at all.”  
  
That scar was from the car crash back in September. Until now, he’s never let me see it, let alone touch it. He tosses my jeans to the floor, and I smile, nipping at his neck and pulling him up into a sitting position. I grab his shoulders and grind my body into his, and he moans, angling his head back. Even through his jeans, I can feel the bulge at his crotch.  
  
"Jesus, Vic," Kellin says, grinning. "Would you let me take my fucking clothes off first?"  
  
"Okay, fine," I reply, grinning back and climbing off of him. He slides off the rest of his clothes, sighing in relief as he exposes his member. For a quick moment I just stare, and he smirks when he notices. I don’t see this playful side much anymore—I’ve almost forgotten its existence—but right now it’s clearly visible. When I glance back up to meet his eyes, he nods, giving me a silent order. I match his facial expression and lean down, flicking his tip with my tongue before closing my lips around it.  
  
"Shut your lips on that Ring Pop," Kellin says, and I laugh so hard I stop what I’m doing.  
  
He laughs, too, and it takes a few moments for me to calm down enough to continue with what has turned into a somewhat hysterical blowjob. I close my lips back around his cock, letting him work his way into me. As I gently massage his shaft with my mouth, he tilts his head back, sighing loudly in pleasure.  
  
"Keep going," he begs, so I do the opposite and abruptly slide back out, leaving him hanging. We’re not finished, though. Kellin looks like he’s about to protest to my stopping, but I make a circular motion with my index finger. Taking the hint, he flips himself over as I pull off my boxer briefs and throw them aside.  
  
"Wait. Do you think anybody can hear?" he asks with an unexpected serious expression.  
  
"Nobody ever has. Don’t worry," I say, climbing on top of him, reaching over into the side table drawer, and pulling out a bottle of lube. After heavily coating my hands and my dick, I slowly slide one finger inside. Kellin tenses up but tells me to keep going, so I add a second finger and finally a third. He lets out a little moan.  
  
"Are you ready?" I say, pulling them back out. All of a sudden, I desperately need to be fully inside of him.  
  
"Whenever you are," he replies. "I guess we’re gonna do this, then, right?"  
  
Positioning my body directly above him, I laugh again. “Yes, we are. Too late to back out now.”  
  
He laughs, too, the sound muffled by the pillow. I push myself in—a bit too quickly, judging by his spontaneous yelp. “Shit,” I mutter, pausing with my dick still half-in and half-out. “You okay down there?”  
  
"Yeah, I’m fine. Just wasn’t expecting that."  
  
So I push myself farther in, both of us groaning at the same time. I can actually feel him letting go of any leftover stress. He arches his back, and I steady myself by grabbing his hips. I move out and back in again, starting slow and steady, eagerly waiting for him to say the word. I want this and I want it now.  
  
"Faster," he rasps, bucking his hips, and I quicken my pace in response. My breath hitches as I lean forward, taking my left hand away from his middle and tangling my fingers in his hair. I can feel it every time I hit that spot inside of him, and the sound of his gasps and my moans fill up the whole room. With each thrust, a wave of ecstasy falls over us both. I’d almost forgotten what this feels like.  
  
He doesn’t have to tell me when he’s close. I can hear it in the way he tries to hold back his outbursts. I can feel it in the way he moves, right in time with me, harder and faster. I collapse completely on top of him, kissing and biting at his neck again as he twists underneath me, my right hand wandering downward to his shaft. I start stroking and pumping it, and he arches his back even farther, moaning loudly. Only a few seconds later, he screams, unable to suppress it no matter how much he tries, and spills all over my hand. I keep thrusting, closing my eyes, and not long after, I come inside him with a scream of my own ripping through me.  
  
We’re both out of breath and covered in each other’s sweat when I fall into place next to him. Watching him silently, I realize that he’s the only one for me, and I make a promise to myself. I promise that those two sessions with Jaime were bouts of temporary insanity. I promise that they are over for good now.  _I promise, Kellin,_  I think.  _I promise I won’t ever do that again. You’re mine. And I’m yours._  
  
After a few minutes, Kellin insists on at least putting his pants back on in case someone comes in, and because it feels awkward for me to be the only one naked, I do, too. We lie in my bed together, separated by clothes but still touching. Unconsciously, I rest my hand on his chest. He flinches when I touch his scar. “It’s okay,” I say softly. “I don’t think it’s ugly.”  
  
He sighs contentedly, relaxes his body, and moves closer to me. “Vic,” he breathes, eyes closed and sounding a little out of it, “do you love me?”  
  
I’m about to say yes, but the word catches in my throat. I do love him, but as I try to tell him this, a little voice in my head says,  _Cheater. You don’t love him._  
  
"Of course I do," I reply, but it sounds like a lie.  
  
His eyes blink back open. “Do you?”  
  
I nod. “I do.” My voice is stronger this time, surer. “I do, Kellin. Please believe me; I do.”  
  
With that, I give him a soft kiss to reinforce my words. I intend it to be short and sweet, but it comes out more melancholy.


	7. Loverboy

**Chapter 7 - Kellin**  
  
I wake up to someone prodding my shoulder.  
  
"Kellin," Vic hisses. "We have to get up."  
  
"No," I whine, burying myself deeper into the warm covers. "I like it here."  
  
"But we have to—"  
  
"I refuse."  
  
He smiles, amused. “So, what, are you just going to skip school today?”  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
We stare at each other for a few seconds, and then he laughs, and I laugh. “It’s Friday anyway,” he says as we crawl out of bed. “We can stand it.”  
  
I watch Vic bend down to pick up his shirt, gazing at his muscles and tan skin. I glance at my own pale chest, at the ugly scar that runs across it. As he pulls the shirt over his head, Vic notices me not doing anything except standing there and looking at him.  
  
I touch my black eye without really thinking. “I’m a mess.”  
  
He tosses me my shirt. “Aren’t we all?”  
  
Because we’re running a little late, both of us decide to fuck it and not take showers. We don’t change out of our clothes from yesterday, either. “Kellin, we are going to have a fancy gourmet breakfast this morning,” Vic tells me as we head down the stairs. This basically means we’ll be having cereal.  
  
His mother greets us with a smile and a “good morning”. She doesn’t rush us, doesn’t criticize us, doesn’t yell at us. I sometimes forget how much more comfortable I am around Vic’s parents. I feel like I can be myself with them, or at least as much of myself as I’m willing to reveal. But with my own parents, it’s like we’re all one slip-up away from mass destruction.  
  
I don’t allow myself to think that much until we hop into the car. Then the memories all flow back into my brain. Unfortunately, the most prominent one is the one I’d like to forget the most. Vic’s voice, uneven and cracking a little, pounds in my head: “ _Of course I do_.” Too hesitant at first. Too rushed when he actually speaks.  
  
 _There could be many reasons why he sounded like he was lying,_  I tell myself.  _The question could’ve caught him off-guard, for instance. I mean, that’s a big question, isn’t it? Damn it, Kellin, you probably scared him off for good now. Stupid. He’s probably gonna go to Jaime and never come back._  
  
"Hey." Vic snaps his fingers in front of my face. "Hello? Anyone home?"  
  
I blink a few times and try to orient myself. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. What were you saying?”  
  
"I wasn’t really saying anything. I just saw you spacing out and, uh, brought you back, I guess."  
  
"Oh. Well, thanks."  
  
I erase that one bad moment from my thoughts and focus on the rest of the night. “Vic,” I say. “This…this shit that’s been going on between us the past couple days. Is it over now?”  
  
Vic takes my left hand in his right hand and links our fingers together. “If you want it to be, then yes. I’ll gladly leave it behind.”  
  
I smile, all of a sudden breathing easier. I kind of want to rest my head on his shoulder, but that might be weird in the car, so I stick to holding his hand, playing with his fingers. When we park, Vic turns to me and silently pulls his hand out of my grasp. Before I can protest, he puts it up my shirt and rests it right above my heart, a place my scar covers. I’ve been trying to ignore said scar, but now he seems determined to explore every inch of it.  
  
"Don’t be ashamed of it," he says simply. Then he takes his hand out, turns the car off, and exits.  
  
—  
  
Today I’m in the spotlight. Almost all shouting and teasing is aimed at me. Even some of the sophomores and freshmen get into the game, and I don’t know how to respond. Most people would probably just let the comments go, but I can’t stop thinking about them.  _Damn it, why am I so weak?_  I wonder.  _Why can’t I just ignore everyone?_  
  
Despite this, I’m actually feeling pretty good. Maybe it’s because I’m stupid, but I actually have a firm belief that whatever Vic and Jaime had is over now. He’s going to stick with me. We’re going to say “Fuck you” to the rumors and focus on us, on our lives, not what other people think or say about it.  
  
"Kelly, hey!" Ian’s voice stops me in my tracks and makes me spin around. "So, what’s Vic up to?"  
  
I shrug nonchalantly. “Well, right now I’m pretty sure he’s heading to second period. You should probably be doing that, too.”  
  
He doesn’t pay attention to that response. “Right now, maybe, but have you heard, Kelly? Do you know what he was doing last week when he wasn’t around you?”  
  
"Not making out with Jaime. And don’t say ‘That’s where you’re wrong’ or some shit, because I know I’m not." I scratch my head, acting bored and indifferent to the whole conversation.  
  
"Then humor me, Kellin. Tell me, does Vic love you? Without a doubt?"  
  
I flinch, and Ian smirks at that. He knows he’s hit something. I can’t fake confidence, either. With just a few words, he’s knocked most of it out of me.  
  
"Well, Loverboy? Can you answer that one?"  
  
Someone saves me from replying by standing in front of me and pushing Ian away. I immediately recognize the fully-tattooed body.  
  
"Fuck off, Ian," Oli says. "Does this have anything to do with you? Has it ever? You should’ve been done with Kellin the day you broke up with him. This isn’t your business, so stay the fuck out of it."  
  
Ian scowls and, after a few moments of silence, nods at me. “I want an answer to my question.”  
  
By now I’ve had time to compose myself. With my sass—for lack of a better word—firmly back in place, I point at my hickey from yesterday. Normally I wouldn’t flaunt it, but this could be useful. “Well, it seems I’ve got a love bite. If that means anything to you.”  
  
He doesn’t seem amused. “Fine,” I add calmly. “Yes, Ian. As a matter of fact, Vic  _does_ love me. More than you ever did.”  
  
Okay, maybe that last part was a bit harsh, but it gets the job done. Ian glares at Oli and I before storming away. His girlfriend Mandy strides up to us, spits in our faces, and then follows her boyfriend down the hall, her wild brown hair whacking us as she whips around.  
  
Oli faces me, wiping the spit off of his cheek. “She does that a lot.”  
  
"I know." I wipe the spit off of my cheek, too. "Thanks for, uh, helping me."  
  
"No problem."  
  
"Kind of brings back some flashbacks, doesn’t it?"  
  
He smiles. “It definitely does.” His expression grows thoughtful. “I wonder if we’d even be friends if people hadn’t spread those rumors about you two years ago.”  
  
"Probably not. It’s weird to think about."  
  
Second period passes in a similar way to yesterday. I pull out another piece of paper and jot down what I hear again. They’re pretty much the same insults, but for me it’s better to write them down than to keep them in my head and think about them all day. Later I can tear the paper to shreds and throw them in the garbage. I’ll tell myself then that they don’t matter, that they’re lies and that’s why I’m throwing them away.  
  
"So apparently Ian’s pretty mad about what happened today," Oli tells me as we sit down at the lunch table. (The juniors and seniors share a lunch period, and the one right before ours is for sophomores and freshmen.) "Then again, he’s always mad about something, so it’s not like that’s anything new, but people keep saying he’s probably gonna end up taking it out on one of us later."  
  
"People also keep saying that I’m a cheater," Vic says, popping up behind us and sitting down next to me.  
  
Oli laughs a little. “Good point. Still, we might want to keep an eye out for any pissed-off blond football players.”  
  
"With a taste for guys named Kellin," Vic adds.  
  
I stick my tongue out. “He probably has a taste for guys named Oli today, though, considering a certain guy named Oli called him out on his shit.”  
  
"Yeah, but Vic did, too, the other day, and Ian left him alone," Oli points out. "I think he just likes torturing you specifically. Which means that if anything, he’s probably going to be looking for you later."  
  
"Fantastic," I reply sarcastically.  
  
As I say this, I spot Ian at his own table, making the universal I’m-watching-you sign at me. “Let’s change that ‘probably’ to a ‘definitely’,” I say.  
  
Vic cracks his knuckles. “It’s okay. We’ve got your back.”  
  
I’m still not completely certain about that, though. He and Oli might be by my side right now, but as soon as we separate, I’m vulnerable. People underestimate what can happen during the three minutes we have to switch classes. Once I’m alone, I start walking faster. Maybe I can make it to sixth period without getting mauled.  
  
Someone grabs me by the back of my shirt and pulls me into a supply closet (again, not the one with the camcorder). I don’t even have to guess; I know it’s Ian. I spin around and pretend I’m not the least bit concerned. “Finally. It’s about time. I was beginning to think you were gonna let me go for once, but of course you wouldn’t.”  
  
That was probably a mistake. He pushes me up against the wall and snarls, “Listen here, you sarcastic little shit. I am going to fucking pound your sorry ass all the way into next week.”  
  
With anyone else, I’d be smart enough to keep my comments to myself. Actually, I probably wouldn’t even have any comments. But because Ian brings out my inner smart-ass, I can’t stop my mouth from saying, “Go for it. That threat is a cliché anyways.”  
  
He rewards me with a punch in the nose that simultaneously makes my head hit the wall. Now I’m definitely dead. I can’t defend myself from Ian when he’s in a rage. Instinctively I hold my hands up to protect my face, but he grabs my wrist and twists it. I try to pull it out of his grip and make a break for the door, but he just yanks me back and pushes me to the floor. I reach for the knob, thinking that maybe if I can grab it I can swing the door into his face and run. I almost have it when Ian yanks my arm again, forces me to face him, and starts slapping me.  
  
"Stop." This is instinctive, too; I don’t mean for the word to come out, but it does, and it makes me feel weak and stupid. I’ve never begged with Ian before; I’ve always just taken it without much protest. "Stop" is a word I only ever use with my father. It never works—if anything, it just makes things worse—so I don’t know why I always end up saying it as if I expect it to change something.  
  
Ian slaps me harder and slams me against the wall again. “Stop?” he repeats. “ _Stop_? You want me to  _stop_?” He shoves my body harder with every sentence, gritting his teeth and gripping my arms so hard I think his fingers are going to rip through my skin. I don’t even attempt to fight back anymore. “Are you finally giving in? Do you understand your place now, you cocky. Fucking. Bastard?”  
  
In my blurred and darkening vision, I don’t see Ian anymore. I see my father. I hear his voice in my head, asking if I know my place, asking if I understand what happens when I don’t conform to him. I shrink down even farther, burying my head into my knees.  
  
Ian kicks me a few times. “Well, Loverboy,” he whispers, “if Vic cares about you as much as you say he does, then I can’t wait to see his reaction to finding you like this.” With that, he casually exits the closet. I’m willing to bet he’s late, but I know that at this point he doesn’t care. The younger version of him would’ve, but that’s a person I’ll never see again. Even when hearing his name makes me picture him from his sophomore year, I sometimes forget that that’s who the current Ian used to be. They’re so different from each other.  
  
I lie down and close my eyes, trying not to slip out of consciousness. I still have to clean up the blood, and I need a little time for the pain to subside. I’m going to stay here the whole period, and then I’m going to walk out like I’m perfectly fine.


	8. Congratulations, I Hate You

**Chapter 8 - Vic**  
  
The next time I see Kellin, his clothes are bloody and he has a bunch of scratches, red marks, and bruises. Despite this, he smiles and gives me the thumbs-up sign.  
  
"Hey," I say as I catch up to him, trying not to sound worried. "I was gonna ask where you were during sixth period, but I’m going to guess you were busy getting beaten to a pulp."  
  
He shrugs. “Pretty much. It’s all good now, though. I mean, my head hurts like hell, but other than that I’m fine.”  
  
"You should go to the nurse or doctor or something," I suggest, though I know it’ll be lost on him.  
  
He shakes his head and starts walking faster. “Nah. I’ll be okay. I’m used to it.”  
  
"Come on. Do you really think nobody’s gonna notice?"  
  
"Oh, someone’ll notice. The question is whether or not they’ll care."  
  
"What about the teachers?"  
  
Kellin stops at the doorway to his seventh period class. “Okay,” he says slowly, “so, yeah, some teachers have asked me about it. They’re never gonna get any answers. I tell them it’s from P.E. or sports, make up a football story or something, and they never look into it beyond that. Or if they have, they’ve never said anything about it. They probably have their own shit to deal with besides caring about some kid who hides in the back of the class and comes in with suspicious-looking bruises.”  
  
I sigh. We both know I’m losing the argument—again. “Maybe this time will be different.”  
  
He snorts. “Yeah. You say that every time.”  
  
As he turns and heads into the classroom, a sudden fury overtakes me. It’s a familiar but unfamiliar fury—familiar because I’ve felt emotions much like it before, but unfamiliar because I’ve never felt this angry over one of Kellin’s routine beatings before. I start walking, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself down, when I spot Oli turning a corner.  
  
"Oli!" I call, running up to him. "Did you see Kellin?"  
  
"No," he replies, alarmed. "Why? Did it happen?"  
  
I nod. “Oh, it happened, alright. Pretty bad, too.”  
  
"And let me guess…he’s acting like it’s no big deal. Correct?"  
  
"Of course he is. But I’m not gonna let Ian get away with it. You know what I’m going to do?"  
  
Oli cracks his knuckles. “Teach him a lesson?”  
  
I smile a little. “Yes, actually.”  
  
With that, I can see him make a decision. “Good.” He claps his hands and starts walking away. “Meet me near your locker at dismissal.”  
  
In just those few seconds, Oli and I have somehow made a plan, most of it unspoken. We’re going to meet at dismissal. We’re going to find Ian. We’re going to show him what happens when he pushes us too far.  
  
And he has. I’ve been letting this slide for much longer than I should’ve been. Ian has tormented Kellin nearly every day for years, and aside from an occasional confrontation, I’ve just watched it happen from the sidelines. People almost never call him out on his shit, and because of this, he thinks he’s nearly invincible. Ian only seems to feel threatened when a person has the courage to stand up to him, and even then, he can fix that problem easily just by beating the person up.  
  
The teachers haven’t ever done anything about it; we gave up on them a long time ago. Maybe at a different school they would’ve, but not at a shithole like this. Now I can see that nobody’s gonna help us. We’re freaks. Loners. Outcasts. Associate with us, and you’ve pretty much committed social suicide. The only people who can help us is us, and since Kellin won’t do anything, Oli and I have to take action.  
  
I manage to stay relatively calm throughout my last two periods—if silently plotting all the ways I can murder Ian counts as calm—but as soon as that dismissal bell rings, the only thing I can think about is reaching my locker. That isn’t too hard, considering it’s literally about twenty feet from my last class, which is probably why Oli picked it as a meeting place. Within seconds, he pops up behind me. “Okay, Vic. How pissed are you?”  
  
As my mind focuses on what we’re doing and why, I remember what Kellin looked like the last time I saw him. Burned out. Pretending to be okay. Beaten, literally and metaphorically. The fact that he accepts it without question, the fact that he’s been reduced to that, is what causes my hands and voice to shake.  
  
"I feel like I’m going to explode," I say.  
  
Oli nods, and even though he isn’t as openly angry as I am, I can tell that beneath the surface, he wants to kill Ian just as badly as I do. “Okay. Let’s go find the bastard.”  
  
That doesn’t take long. He and his friends are loudly heading for the main entrance of the school. His arm is around Mandy, and he’s laughing at a joke that’s probably stupid. “How are we gonna get him away from his friends?” I ask Oli quietly as we follow them.  
  
Oli shrugs. “Easy. We piss him off.”  
  
They’re almost at the front doors, which isn’t good; that’s where everyone else is. People will see. “We need a distraction,” I say.  
  
"Coming right up." Before I have time to wonder what he’s doing, Oli picks up his pace and calls, "You fucking son of a bitch!"  
  
The whole group spins around at that. Ian steps forward, the smile completely gone. He’s already a full-time loose cannon with anger management issues, and you especially wouldn’t want to mess with him on a day like today. Oli is balancing on a very thin line, and as he bluntly punches Ian in the face, it snaps right in half.  
  
He darts out of the way as soon as his fist makes impact, turning into the hallway to my right, and I follow him. Behind me, Ian shouts, “You’ll pay for that, you fuckers!” I hear his footsteps behind me, pounding almost as hard and fast as my heart.  
  
Despite my better judgement, I can’t help but feel absolutely certain that I’m going to die. There aren’t many people in this wing, which means we don’t have to worry about crashing into anyone. Right as I’m starting to get used to this panicked adrenaline rush, Oli skids to a stop in front of me. It’s only for a split second, though, because then he pulls a door open that I didn’t notice before.  
  
We stumble outside breathlessly, and I take this moment to figure out exactly where we are. That door must’ve been a side door that nobody uses. There are a few trees shading us and walls that stick out slightly farther than the others to create corners. And there are no other people around.  
  
Ian kicks the door open behind us, but Oli’s prepared. He grabs Ian’s arms and spins him around so his back is to the wall, using his own momentum against him.  
  
"This is what happens," he pants, "when you fuck with us."  
  
Ian pushes him back, and Oli loses his grip on his arms. I step in and grab Ian before he can get away, but my hold on him isn’t as solid. Oli quickly recovers and punches him again. This time I can see the true extent of his anger. It’s there in the expression on his face, in his fists clenched tightly, in the way he yells as he lets Ian have it. He’s fucking  _mad_.  
  
Ian kicks out at me and ducks his head to avoid Oli’s strikes. The fear I felt in the hallway is subsiding and slowly replacing itself with that familiar rage. Again, my hands start to shake, making it increasingly difficult to keep holding on to Ian’s arms. At this point, anything could trigger me, and Oli’s already flown off the handle. This means that Ian must be a special kind of stupid, because he taunts, “Come on, guys, is that all you got?”  
  
Or maybe he isn’t stupid. Maybe he just likes the conflict. Either way, he’s definitely getting it.  
  
I yank his arms down, causing Oli’s next punch to miss by a few inches. His head is bent forward for a short time, so I swing my heavy backpack around and hit him with it. It stuns him for a few seconds, so Oli kicks him a couple times while he’s out of it.  
  
"Fuck you!" I scream. "What the hell happened? You cared about Kellin! You wouldn’t have let anything bad touch him, and now you’re the bad thing!"  
  
"That was…before," Ian rasps, pulling himself up and preparing to fight us back. Oli pushes him against the wall again, and I help to hold him there. With his brute strength, it takes both of us to keep him in one place.  
  
"Before," Oli repeats. "Before what? Before you turned into a cunt who spends his days making an innocent guy feel miserable for something I’m pretty sure didn’t even happen?"  
  
"You didn’t know him, Oliver!" Ian snaps. "You barely knew he existed back then. How do you know he didn’t do anything?"  
  
"Okay, well,  _I_  knew him,” I interrupt. “I’ve known him since before I could talk. I still care about him, more than you ever did.” When I say that, Oli’s eyes widen in recognition—I’ll have to ask him about it later. “That’s why we’re doing this. That’s why we’re here. You’ve been getting away with hurting him for far too fucking long. Who the hell do you think you are? Do you know what you’ve done to him? He’s fucked up because of you! He’s fucked up and it’s your fault.  _Your fault_!”  
  
At this point I realize that I’m not only talking to Ian; I’m also talking to Kellin’s father, though he doesn’t know it. These are the words I’ve always wanted to scream in his face.  
  
As quickly as it came, my anger begins to die down. Oli meets my eyes, and I take a step back. He nods, so I turn and run.  
  
Rounding a corner, I see the blue car sitting in the parking lot and the faint shape of someone waiting inside. At first I assume it’s Kellin, but as I get closer I notice some differences. Climbing inside, I confirm my suspicions: Jaime. For the third time this week, he is the one sitting in that passenger seat, where my boyfriend should be.  
  
"You look…troubled," he says.  
  
I brush my hair away from my face and try not to look at him. “Yeah. Guess so.”  
  
I close my eyes and stare down at my hands. Now that I’m thinking a bit more clearly, I wonder if what Oli and I just did changed anything at all. I mean, yeah, we beat Ian up a little bit…but for what? What did that do for us? He could just get back up and keep doing what he’s been doing. He won’t tell an adult about it—he’s too proud to act like the victim. He’ll probably just pretend the whole thing never even happened.  
  
"Hey, Vic," Jaime says. "Are you going to that thing at the mini-golf course tonight? Where everything is free?"  
  
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. “Maybe. With Kellin, probably.”  
  
He nods. “Might see you there, then. I’m going with some other people.”  
  
What I’ve noticed about Jaime is that he’s one of those people who gets along with everyone, and everyone gets along with him. He’s a charismatic guy and has proven himself as one of the only people who can be friends with me and still get treated, at the least, like a decent human being. There must be some other group of kids going to the mini-golf course that he decided to tag along with for tonight. It’s so strange to me that he’s just accepted as a kind of drifter, but I guess since he hasn’t really established a place for himself, he gets to go everywhere.  
  
"Well, whatever’s bothering you," Jaime says, "I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it, do you?"  
  
I shake my head. “No. I need a…a distraction. Again.” I finally look up at him, hoping he’ll figure out that today, I do want him to do what he did last time. I know I’ll regret it later, but right now I don’t care. I want to lose myself in someone else, and at the moment I don’t think I can even get that pleasure from Kellin. He’s the reason all this happened, and that fake smile and bruised skin will probably just remind me of it.  
  
Jaime does understand. He leans forward and kisses me, a bit softer than I’m used to. Instinct tells me to push away, and I almost want to. I almost want to go find Kellin and pretend that I’m not doing this. Instead I grab Jaime’s hand and let go of everything else. Once again, it’s nothing but him. I have no problems or worries. The world outside of this car might as well not exist at all. With most of my thoughts chased away, I am only partially aware that the promise I made just last night has been thrown out the window.


	9. This Is Twice Now

**Chapter 9 - Kellin**  
  
If anyone ever doubts that things spread like lightning at my school, all I need to do is tell them this: I’ve already heard about Oli and Vic confronting Ian in the middle of the hallway at dismissal. It’s been about five minutes since that bell rang.  
  
Apparently, a bunch of people saw it happen, so it’s no surprise that it’s already reached me. Then again, that’s only because I overheard a couple of kids talking about it in the hallway, which was nearly empty by the time I finally got out of that damn classroom.  
  
Vic was right. Someone  _did_  notice. That someone happened to be my eighth period teacher, Mr. Billings. He kept me after class for a few minutes, saying he suspected something deeper going on in my life than the lies I tell everyone who asks. He was pretty accurate in that aspect, but I didn’t tell him that. I tried to stay as quiet and noncommittal as possible, so my side of the conversation was basically just an overuse of “Mm-hmm”, “I don’t know”, and “Okay”. He must’ve gotten the hint sooner or later, because eventually he just said that I could talk to him if I ever had a problem. I hope he realizes how unlikely it is that I’ll actually take him up on that offer.  
  
So now I’m the only one in the hallway, and the sound of my footsteps echoes around me as I speed-walk to the front door and the parking lot. According to the kids I overheard, after Oli punched Ian, he and Vic ran down another hallway, and Ian was the only one to follow them, so nobody knows what happened after that. By now they might both be back in their cars, Oli driving home and Vic waiting for me, but they might also still be with Ian somewhere. I guess I’ll just find Vic’s car like I normally do and wait for him if I need to.  
  
The school is almost dead now that the students are gone. There have to be some after-school activities going on somewhere, and there are probably kids who have detention, but nobody else is out in the hall. I’m relieved when I step outside and see a couple other kids and some cars—proof that I’m not suddenly the only person here. The blue car is there as usual, and I begin to head toward it, but familiar silhouettes and a familiar feeling make me stop in my tracks. It’s like déjà vu, except I actually  _have_ experienced this before.  
  
The silhouettes are Jaime and Vic. They’re both in the car with their eyes closed and their lips locked together. Again.  
  
Like I said, this feeling is familiar, but it’s also a bit different. Last time it was one of shock and denial. This time, it’s more of a sad acceptance. It’s like after a close friend of yours has died and you’ve finally realized that that friend isn’t coming back and won’t ever come back; they’re gone forever. It’s devastation.  
  
Slowly, I force my feet to start moving again. I turn to the left and cut across the parking lot to clear on the other side, where Oli’s old black car sits. It’s empty, but when I pull at the passenger door, it opens for me. I slide inside and sink into the seat, tossing my backpack to the floor.  
  
I take a deep breath, but it comes out sounding raspy. There’s a feeling in my chest like I’m going to cry, and after a suspended moment of nothing, my breath hitches again. From there, it’s all over. I’m bawling like a fucking baby, and with every wretched convulsion, I hear a voice in my head whispering,  _Weak. You’re weak. Don’t you dare cry. It’s your own fault for getting too attached. You’re so fucking stupid._  
  
What slows the tears down is the moment I realize that I’m sitting in Oli’s car, waiting for him. Maybe Vic left early during whatever they were doing with Ian, or maybe Oli had to do another thing first, but sooner or later, he’s going to be in this car, and I need to get myself under control.  
  
Focusing on slowing my breathing, I wipe violently at my eyes, determined to show no trace of a problem. I force myself to think of anything other than Vic. Sometimes his name or face or voice unconsciously pops into my mind, and the feeling rises up in my chest again until I stifle it.  
  
Just as I’m pulling myself back together, the door of the driver’s seat opens and Oli sits down, narrowing his eyes. “Kellin. What are you doing here?”  
  
When he says this, I realize that I don’t have any idea. I still have no intention of telling him about Vic and Jaime, so what  _am_  I doing here?  
  
"I—" I begin, and my voice breaks. "I…just had another bad day. Sorry. What were you doing?"  
  
Oli scowls. “Settling something. But I’m kind of thinking we made a stupid move.”  
  
"Why, ‘cause beating Ian up probably won’t affect him much?" At the look of confusion on his face, I add, "I heard some kids talking about it."  
  
He nods. “Yeah, it probably won’t have the effect we hoped for. I mean, I’m kind of thinking we took him down a level or two, because we actually did do a bit of damage, but a level or two isn’t good enough. Especially when he’s up that high.”  
  
"Well…" I smile uneasily. "That was…nice of you. To, uh, go to that extent just because he beat me up a little."  
  
He shrugs. “He’s been hurting you for too long. And I’m guessing he’s a pretty big factor in the bad day, too.”  
  
"Yeah," I say, aware that I sound a bit distant. "That, uh, played bit of a part." Again, in my head I can see Vic making out with Jaime, the image clear as day. This time it’s a different feeling that rises up. The sadness is still there—of course it’s still there—but with it, there’s rage. And I think it’s this rage that makes me do what I do next.  
  
I pull Oli towards me—my thoughts are a jumbled mess, my hands acting without my consent—and kiss him.  
  
Shocked, he reels back, breaking it off. “What are you—” he starts, but something about me stops him. He leans forward a little, and I meet him halfway. This time he doesn’t fight back.  
  
When it comes to things like this, Vic almost always has the upper hand, but with Oli, it’s like I can’t control myself anymore. That might be less because it’s Oli and more because I’m hurt, I’m angry…and there’s something else, too. A desire, not necessarily for Oli, but just for someone else. Someone other than Vic.  
  
So I am wild, eager to explore every single inch of him. I can’t help myself; I love the thrill of a new body, and Oli kisses back with equal curiosity and intensity. As we’re pressed up against each other, it quickly becomes a bit of a war to see who ends up dominating. Eventually, though, Oli knocks me down to the seat. He’s on top of me now. Forgetting myself and where I am and who I’m with, I let out a little moan.  
  
Oli stops, climbing off of me, and I open my eyes. Our gazes meet, as if we’ve both just all of a sudden realized what we’re doing. Firmly, he says, “This never happened.”  
  
I nod, pulling myself up. “It stays in this car.”  
  
He nods back. “What’ll you tell Vic if he asks why you were late?”  
  
I shrug, grab my backpack, open the car door, and start to get out. “I’ll say Mr. Billings kept me after class.” Which isn’t a lie, either.  
  
"Okay." He waves and smiles a little. "Sayonara."  
  
I slam the door and take my time crossing the parking lot in case Jaime’s still in the car. As I approach it, I see nobody in the passenger seat and Vic tapping his hand on the steering wheel, waiting.  
  
"Hey," I say as I hop inside. "Sorry I’m late. Mr. Billings kept me after class."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"I, uh…you were right. He, um, noticed."  
  
He raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? How’d you get away? Is he gonna make you see a guidance counselor or something?”  
  
I shake my head. “I just kind of didn’t say much at all. Tried to be as vague as possible. I’d say it worked for the most part.”  
  
"I told you people would notice," he says, but then he changes the subject. "Hey, so…would you want to go with me to that free mini-golf thing tonight?"  
  
"Sure. I mean, I hate golf, but it’s better than being at home."  
  
"Definitely." Slowly, he starts to exit the parking lot. I don’t think anyone’s ever gotten in trouble for loitering here before, but we don’t really want to be the first. "You could even sleep over again if you want to. Take every moment of freedom you can away from that bastard."  
  
He doesn’t have to elaborate on who “that bastard” is. “Hell yes,” I agree. “Does this mean we’ll end up making popcorn and watching some shitty romantic comedy?”  
  
"Probably."  
  
In my pocket, my phone rings. Pulling it out, I check the screen and find that it’s my dad. “Speak of the devil,” I groan, answering the call. “Hello?”  
  
"Kellin!" Dad’s voice is so loud I nearly drop the phone. "What the hell is the meaning of this?"  
  
Fuck. He’s drunk. “Uh, meaning of what?” I ask hesitantly.  
  
"I just got a phone call from school. Some guy named Tom Billings. Said he’s ‘concerned’ about your ‘physical and emotional wellbeing’. What the hell did you tell him?"  
  
Shit. Looks like Mr. Billings decided to do some research. “Nothing!” I say quickly. “I barely said anything. I played dumb, Dad, I swear.”  
  
"You swear?"  
  
"I swear."  
  
"Good. You never tell anybody. That stays between you and me, alright?"  
  
"Okay. Dad, um…I’m going to this thing at the mini-golf place tonight. Everything’s free. And then, uh, I’m staying over at Vic’s house again. Okay?"  
  
"What? Why?" he snaps. "What’s wrong with our house?"  
  
"I just…I’m coming home tomorrow afternoon, okay?"  
  
"Tomorrow afternoon. I’ll keep that in mind. You better not call me again with another schedule change or I’ll—"  
  
"I  _won’t_ , Dad. Bye.” I hang up.  
  
Vic whistles. “Tough crowd. You know, you don’t have to if it’s gonna get you in trouble.”  
  
"No. I want to." I rest my hand on top of his, possessively. It’s a gesture that says "You’re mine". One that says "I won’t share you". One that says "I’m sorry".


	10. Go to Hell, For Heaven's Sake

**Chapter 10 - Vic**  
  
Kellin and I hang out at my house for an hour or two before we head over to Hoffman’s Mini-Golf. That hour or two is mostly spent screaming at my TV and each other as we shoot zombies on the Xbox. I don’t remember when this became a regular practice, though I think Kellin might’ve originally developed it as a sort of therapy. Anger management. “Ian should try it sometime,” he’d joked once, after a particularly rough day like today.  
  
We’re lying on my bed, side-by-side on our stomachs, our hips and elbows touching. Right now I’m playing fairly casually, but Kellin is unusually violent. His knuckles are white, and every few seconds his body moves and slides against mine. “I’ll fucking kill you!” he shouts as a bunch of zombies surround him out of the blue.  
  
“ _Some_ one’s pissed off,” I say, trying to defend him by shooting at some of the zombies.  
  
"Quite." He sits up on his knees, pushing at the controller’s buttons even harder, as if that will make his gun work better or faster. "Damn it!" He flops back down onto his stomach. "A little help here?"  
  
"What does it look like I’m doing?" His intensity is contagious. This wave seems endless, and within a few seconds, I’m just punching random buttons and hoping for the best. My fingers are flying so quickly that I actually lose my grip on the controller and accidentally drop it onto the floor. "Shit!" I reach down to grab it, but by the time I look back up, the words "Game Over" are flashing across the screen. "Fuck it," I mutter, letting the controller slip from my hands and fall to the floor a second time.  
  
I roll onto my side, facing Kellin. He tosses his own controller over his shoulder, not caring where it lands, and also turns to me, inching closer so that our bodies are lightly touching again. His gaze is focused, and I don’t know if it’s on me or something slightly beyond me that I don’t know about. Slowly, he grabs my hand and presses it against his chest. Unconsciously, as if he doesn’t even know he’s saying it, he softly whispers, “Mine.”  
  
I nod. “Yours. Only yours.”  
  
And with that, I close the remaining distance by connecting my lips to his. In return, he pulls me as close as humanly possible, the kind of close where you just want to keep getting closer and closer. You want to completely entwine yourself with the other person; you want to get absolutely lost inside of them. So I wrap myself around him, to the point that I can barely tell his body from my own, and nothing else matters. It’s a lot like a distraction, but at the same time it isn’t, because unlike with Jaime, the main reason I’m doing this isn’t to be distracted. It’s because in this moment I don’t want to be anywhere else.  
  
Kellin pulls away abruptly, and when I open my eyes, his are wide in alarm. “Fuck,” he pants, untangling himself from me. I open my mouth to ask why, but then I hear footsteps and quickly grab my controller off the floor to make it look we never stopped playing. Kellin scrambles for his—it apparently landed behind my bed—and leaps back up to his original position. The lower part of his body crashes into my side, and in his mad dash to act natural, he falls on top of my back. Before he can right himself—or fuck something up even more—Mom pops her head in.  
  
"Uh…I don’t know how this happened," I say slowly, pointing to Kellin lying on top of me, who smiles awkwardly and does a little wave.  
  
Mom just laughs and tells us that she’s made dinner and we can come down if we want some before we go. Then she leaves, closing the door behind her.  
  
Kellin climbs off of me and makes an apologetic face. “I, uh…I forgot we were at your house.”  
  
I know exactly what he means. He forgot that my mom knows we’re dating and is fine with it. I mean, it would’ve been really awkward for her to walk in on us while we were like that, but over at his place, it would’ve been practically fatal. “My dad isn’t really a hardcore homophobe,” he said once, “but he doesn’t like gays, either. And he already hates me, so I have a feeling he’d be twice as bad as he his now if he knew.”  
  
It hurt to hear him say that his dad hated him, and I wanted to disagree, but I couldn’t find any evidence that the guy actually  _did_  love him.  
  
"Well, are we going to get dinner?" I ask.  
  
Kellin nods and stiffly rolls off the bed. Maybe it’s just the way he lands with a clumsy thud, or the fact that now his hair is all messed up, or the way he staggers to his feet as if I’ve just fucked him into next week. Whatever it is, something about him makes me burst into random laughter. After a few seconds of confusion, Kellin does, too. He falls back next to me on the bed, and for not much reason at all, we laugh harder than we have in a long, long time.  
  
—  
  
Hoffman’s Mini-Golf—a small family business that was apparently started two generations ago—is one of the only places we have for entertainment here. I mean, we’ve got a bowling alley and a mall, and in the fall there are the Friday night football games, but after a while it gets a little boring to not have much variation. I’m going to guess that this is how most middle-of-nowhere Pennsylvania towns are.  
  
Then there are the parties. I think the reason why kids around here throw such good ones is because we don’t have much else to do. Plus, parents always seem to be going out of town for the weekend, and I can’t really blame them. I don’t mind it here, but even I need a getaway sometimes. A few months ago Kellin and I snuck out in the middle of the night and just drove away. We ended up making out in the back of the car, pulled over on the side of the road, and then we fell asleep there and forgot we had school the next day, like a scene from a movie. We got into a shitload of trouble, and neither of us regret a moment of it.  
  
Tonight, after the football game, the anticipated party is being hosted by a senior named Jen. By now, we all know what to expect: alcohol, music, couples getting too physical, idiots who don’t know when to stop drinking, an occasional fight, and more gossip fuel. It’s absolutely chaotic, and sometimes people get hurt, but we always end up coming back. Maybe it’s for the booze, maybe it’s to fit in, maybe it’s to escape, maybe it’s as a crazy date…whatever the reason, a party never fails.  
  
Scoping out the crowd at Hoffman’s, Kellin and I confirm that at least half of the people here are students probably planning to go to Jen’s house after this. “Yep, this is what we get up to on a Friday night,” I say. “Golfing. Aren’t we so cool?”  
  
Kellin laughs and raises his fist. “Golf, Xbox, and shitty movies. What a time to be alive.”  
  
Carrying a golf club, I grab a plain white golf ball. Behind me, Kellin takes a purple one because it seems that since I took the last plain one, that’s the only color left. I don’t think he really cares or thinks anything of it until some kid calls over to us, “A purple ball? What are you, gay?”  
  
I roll my eyes. Kellin turns to the kid and says in a deadpan voice, “Yes. Yes, I am.”  
  
The kid fumbles for a comeback, but I lead Kellin away to the first hole before something bad has a chance to happen. “Seriously. Can’t we go anywhere without some asshole trying to get to you?”  
  
"Nope." He shrugs. "I’m used to it."  
  
Five surprisingly difficult holes later, Kellin and I sit down on a bench and take a break. Kellin wipes his forehead. “Who knew mini-golf could actually make you work up a sweat?”  
  
I snort. “It does when you’re running all over the place chasing the ball because you keep whacking it out into the fucking parking lot.”  
  
He makes a face. “Hey,” he says, a more serious tone in his voice. “You know, trying to beat Ian up might not have been the best idea.”  
  
I narrow my eyes. “How did you know about that?”  
  
"How could you not?"  
  
I nod. “Good point.”  
  
"Vic, what you and Oli did…I mean, it feels kind of good that you did that for me, but I don’t think it’s gonna affect him much. It’ll just piss him off, make things worse."  
  
"Maybe, but at least we did something."  
  
He shakes his head. “Sometimes it’s better to not do anything, just wait it out before it can get worse.”  
  
"Wait  _what_  out?” I ask impatiently. “He’s just gonna keep at it until you break. He’s not gonna stop, not on his own, at least.”  
  
"Well, you know what? I can take it. I don’t care. He’ll graduate in a couple months anyways, and then he’ll be out of my life. Until then, this is my battle."  
  
"Well, now it’s mine, too," I persist. "It should’ve been mine a lot sooner."  
  
He shakes his head again and turns to face me. “No,” he snaps. “It’s mine. Only mine, Vic. You and Oli have been defending me too much, and now Ian’s gonna start coming after you.”  
  
"Fine. So he comes after me. I don’t give a fuck. I care about you, damn it! Let me help you!"  
  
"No! I’m causing too many problems already."  
  
"I really wish you’d stop thinking like that—"  
  
"Vic, I can handle it."  
  
"No, you can’t, Kellin. You take it to heart. You act like you don’t, and you lie to yourself, but I’ve seen it before. I don’t care about his graduation. I’m not letting him leave here thinking he’s won."  
  
"Stop it!" he yells. People are starting to notice, but he doesn’t lower his voice. "Stop fucking helping me. Don’t you dare get involved in this more than you already are. Don’t you fucking dare."  
  
"You really want to be alone? You really want to have no one to turn to? Fine. You can go to hell, for all I care."  
  
My last words finalize the argument. Kellin stares at me for a few seconds before standing up and silently walking away. He looks completely stoic, as if nothing has happened, and I remind myself that that’s the expression he almost constantly wears. I sometimes forget that Oli and I are the only ones who can even guess what he’s feeling, because in reality, he probably just looks bored all the time. We’re the only ones who bother to dig deeper.  
  
A few people glance my way, either concerned or disgusted or just nosy. I look down at the ground and try not to think about what I just said. Half an hour ago, I was making out with Kellin, and now here I am telling him to go to hell. Part of me wants to chase after him and apologize, but another part of me is too proud. I told him he could be alone, that I wouldn’t be there for him, and now that cruel part of me wants to see how long he’ll last without me by his side. Deep down I know it’s wrong, but right now I’m too pissed to think about morals.  
  
"Hey, Vic!"  
  
My head shoots up at the sound of Jaime’s voice. He and his friends are at the fifth hole, where Kellin and I stopped. He raises his golf club up as a greeting, and I raise my own in return. I stand up with my golf ball in my hand and stroll toward his group. “Hey.”  
  
Jaime quickly surveys the area around me. “Where’s Kellin?”  
  
"I, uh…he had to go. I’ve just kind of been sitting here. I could play with you guys, though."  
  
A couple kids give me the evil eye—I can’t blame them; nobody wants to be associated with me—but Jaime ignores them. “Sure. Actually,” he adds, turning back to the rest of the group, “I could just go with Vic. Leave you guys alone.”  
  
The guys exchange looks. “You, uh, don’t have to,” one says. “We can, um, he can, uh, stay with us if he wants.” He nods at me, but despite his words, he’s clearly not comfortable with being seen with me in public. Or maybe he’s just not comfortable with me, period. Fine.  
  
Jaime notices this. “Nah, it’s okay. We’ll get off your backs.” He smiles at me, and at the sight of it, I can’t help but smile back. I’m going to have fun tonight. I’m not going to let an argument ruin it.  
  
"Okay," I say as we start walking away to the next hole, "but prepare to lose like you’ve never lost before."  
  
"You’re on."  
  
As it turns out, Jaime actually doesn’t have much experience with golf. The next thirteen holes are filled with much frustration, as the ball always seems to narrowly miss the place it’s supposed to go to. I think a few random people have gotten enjoyment out of stopping to watch us.  
  
Jaime positions himself at the beginning of the seventeenth hole. “Is this stance even right?”  
  
Laughing, I step behind him and grab the club, placing my hands right next to his. “It’s all in the hips,” I say slowly. Jaime snorts.  
  
A few feet away, a little boy points at us. “Hey, Mommy, what are they doing?”  
  
We both burst into more laughter, and I quickly remove my hands from the club, realizing how weird we must look. Jaime turns around and smirks before unexpectedly giving me a kiss on the nose. Then he turns back around and, without really thinking, swings his club.  
  
The boy asks about that kiss, and I hear the boy’s mother explaining to him that the reason we’re doing these things is probably because we’re in love. The boy doesn’t think much of that and asks if they can get ice cream later.  
  
But the mother is wrong. I am not in love with Jaime. The person who has my heart is the person I just let walk away.


	11. Do It Now Remember It Later

**Chapter 11 - Kellin**  
  
For the record, I probably wouldn’t still be at Hoffman’s if I hadn’t seen Jaime as I was walking away.  
  
But I did, and I got curious. I wondered whether he and Vic would notice each other, what would happen if they did. So I’m sitting on a different bench now, observing them. Every few holes I have to get up and move to another bench so I can still watch them, which makes me feel like a stalker. I’m almost positive that some people have kept their eyes on me this whole time, too, and probably think the same thing.  
  
But at this point, I’ve finally seen enough. Vic is with Jaime, and he’s happy. They’re not fighting or yelling at each other. They’re carefree instead of wrapped up in problems. Their relationship would be so much easier for him. So much less painful. So much better without me. Then again, that’s how it’s always been.  
  
I stand up and head toward the exit, for real this time. When I get to the parking lot, I remember that I have no ride home now. I could steal Vic’s car, but that would mean he’d have to ride with Jaime, and my jealousy won’t let him do that if I can help it.  
  
The next thing I know, I’m hearing Oli’s voice over the phone: “Hello? Kellin?”  
  
"I, uh, I’m at Hoffman’s. I need you to pick me up."  
  
"Why? Can’t somebody there drive you?"  
  
I shake my head before realizing that he can’t see it. “The only person here who would even want to is Vic, and he’s kind of… _unavailable_  at the moment.”  
  
Oli doesn’t question further. “Okay. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”  
  
When he pulls up at the front, I check my watch and, climbing inside, tell him, “You lied. It took you eleven minutes.”  
  
Oli sticks his tongue out at me. “Fuck you.” Pulling away from Hoffman’s Mini-Golf, he asks, “So where are we headed? Your house?”  
  
I open my mouth to say yes, but then I remember that I told Dad I wouldn’t be home until tomorrow afternoon. “Uh…let’s go to that girl’s party. Jen.”  
  
Again, Oli doesn’t question me. He just turns in the opposite direction of my house and says, “Well…we’re in this car.”  
  
It takes me a few moments to understand: I told him the kiss stays in this car, and we’re in this car. He’s inviting me to talk about it, but I don’t know what to say.  
  
"I, uh…it was a one-time thing," I stammer slowly. "Right?"  
  
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean,  _you’re_  the one who, uh…kissed me.”  
  
Up until now, neither of us had actually said it, but something about the word makes it so much more real.  _Kiss_. I kissed Oli in this exact car earlier today.  
  
"Okay." I nod. "Then it was a one-time thing. I say it was a one-time thing."  
  
He nods, too. “Then that’s what it was.”  
  
It only takes about ten minutes to get to Jen’s house—everything is within ten minutes apart here. Those ten minutes are spent in silence, both of us all too aware of what we did. What right do I have to be jealous about Vic now?  
  
We don’t knock; we just walk right in. At parties in our town, there aren’t any invitations or guest lists or greetings; it’s just kind of a free-for-all. If you want to come, you come. Your social status doesn’t matter, though popular kids will probably get treated better than outcasts.  
  
I turn to Oli. “I wonder what it’d be like if I had a party,” I joke, snatching a piece of pizza from the box on the kitchen island.  
  
"If you could even get away with it," Oli adds. He raises an eyebrow. "Could you?"  
  
"Nah. Well, maybe, because Dad wouldn’t hit me in front of all those people, but I’d definitely regret it afterwards." I grab a red plastic cup and fill it with vodka, and Oli does the same. I take a drink and sarcastically proclaim, "Time to pretend my life isn’t a train wreck!"  
  
My phone rings in my pocket, and of course, it’s him again. “I swear, he can sense whenever I’m talking about him,” I mutter, temporarily handing the cup to Oli. I run outside and stand in the front yard, away from the noise and chaos, before answering. “Hello?”  
  
"Just calling to check up on you," Dad says. If it was any other normal parent, it probably would’ve sounded caring and concerned, but when Dad says it, it comes out like a warning, a threat. "Hey, where’s that sound coming from?"  
  
Shit. I glance back at the house with its glowing windows and blaring music. He can still hear it. “Uh, Vic’s playing the radio.”  
  
A couple random people choose this moment to scream something out the window. They’re probably drunk. “Well, Kellin, can I speak to Vic? Or even better, his parents?”  
  
 _Shit, shit, shit._  I try to find some way to explain, desperately looking through the windows and searching for someone in the crowd who might be able to impersonate Vic or his parents. “I—”  
  
"Exactly. Kellin, wherever the hell you are, you need to get out of there right now."  
  
I take a deep breath to swallow the panic. I know I should probably obey him, but my conscience is smothered by a strange feeling of rebellion—or maybe the alcohol is already setting in. Either way, that rebellious feeling is what causes me to simply say, “No.”  
  
"You— _what_?” Dad sputters.  
  
"I said no." I focus on keeping my voice steady. "I told you I’d be back tomorrow afternoon, so that’s when I’ll be back." Then, quickly, I hang up and rush inside.  
  
"I am officially in deep shit," I announce to Oli, grabbing my cup from his hand and taking another drink. "Dad knows I’m somewhere I’m not supposed to be."  
  
Oli’s eyes widen a little. “What’s gonna happen? Are you going back?”  
  
I smile wryly. “See, here’s the thing: Nope.”  
  
He sets his cup down. “You can’t be serious.”  
  
"I am completely serious. I’m not going back until tomorrow." I tip my drink back, and ice attacks my face. To my surprise, it’s already empty. When did that happen? "Dad can kiss my ass."  
  
Oli laughs a little. “Whoa, where’d this come from? This…confidence.”  
  
"I don’t know," I say, but I do know. I know exactly where it came from, and it’s not from the vodka. It’s anger, just like when I kissed Oli. It’s blinding me, and I realize this, but right now I don’t really care. When I’m alone in the middle of the night, though, I’ll care. Maybe not tonight, but some night. Some night I’ll care that I’ve been drinking like Dad, and some night I’ll care that I’m being an idiot. But now? Now I just want different problems so I don’t have to think about the real ones. Unconsciously, I refill my cup with more vodka and take a sip.  
  
"Hey." Oli points across the room. "Guess who."  
  
Ian. He’s got his arm around Mandy and is standing with a bunch of seniors. He smiles and laughs, and for a split second I think his face transforms and I’m looking at Ian the sophomore. But then it changes back again and it’s Ian the senior.  _Just the vodka,_  I tell myself.  _It was just the vodka._  
  
I can still see the appeal, though, in Ian the senior. I’ve never heard him say one mean word to or about his friends. He’s actually pretty funny and generally cooperative, and he doesn’t hate people without a reason that’s logical to him. As much as I hate to admit it, his reason for hating me is at least somewhat logical. I mean, he thinks I cheated on him. He probably could’ve gotten over it by now, or done a little research before assuming the rumors were true, but I can kind of see where he’s coming from. Especially now.  
  
 _Okay,_  I think,  _that sympathy is definitely the vodka talking._  
  
My mind keeps going.  _Why don’t I hate Vic, then?_  I wonder.  _I have more evidence than Ian ever did. So why don’t I feel like him?_  
  
Well, for one thing, I’m not Ian. For another, I don’t think I can hate Vic. It’d take a lot. We grew up together. I barely remember a time when he wasn’t by my side. That’s not saying that I can’t be something without him. I can be something. I’m being something right now. Maybe a really shitty, really stupid something, but a something.  
  
See, this is what happens when I drink. My thoughts start rambling. Damn it.  
  
Oli snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Kellin. Ian’s gonna notice if you keep staring at him like that.”  
  
I jerk to attention. “Like what? Oh. Sorry.”  
  
"We might want to, uh, move to a different place. He looks pretty calm now, but just seeing one of us could piss him off."  
  
I nod and let him lead me through the crowded house. Suddenly I see something in my peripheral vision, but I can’t open my mouth fast enough. Ian’s fist has already met Oli’s face.  
  
Oli half-spins and staggers, nearly crashing into a few random people. He tries to regain his balance, only to be knocked back down just as he looks up. Ian doesn’t seem to have noticed me, or maybe, for once, he doesn’t care. The sympathy I felt for him only a couple minutes ago fades completely. He’s beating up someone I care about.  
  
I set my drink down on the nearest table. Ian throws another punch, but I jump into its path before it can reach Oli. The pain is familiar, and even though it hurts, it’s strangely comforting. This is pain I can handle.  
  
"Kellin!" Oli snaps. "Stop! This is my battle, not yours!"  
  
Ian takes his arm and twists it. Oli grimaces but doesn’t stop fighting. With Ian’s attention focused on Oli, I spot an opportunity and punch him in the face. He reels back and lets go of Oli, who shouts, “Kellin, stop it! Don’t get involved!”  
  
"But I want to help you!" I reply, and then I stop in my tracks. Right now I’m no longer Kellin. Oli is Kellin, and I am Vic, and we are arguing on a bench at Hoffman’s Mini-Golf.  
  
I take a few steps back, shaking the thought from my mind. “Oli!” I yell. “Let’s just get out of here!”  
  
Ian punches Oli again. Blood is running down his face. He looks up and meets my eyes before nodding and running for me. Ian grabs his arm, but he wrenches free. “Go!”  
  
I turn around and push back through the masses of people. I’m just about to fling the front door open when I notice a frighteningly familiar figure stomping through the yard and headed for the house.  
  
It takes me a few seconds to put it together, but by that time Oli’s next to me and sees it, too. “The back door!” I gasp.  
  
He grabs my arm and pulls me. “I know where it is. This way!”  
  
Behind us, I hear the door slam open. Everyone shuts up almost immediately aside from the music playing, and a distinct voice demands, “Where is he?”  
  
Oli opens the screen door and yanks me outside with him. “Your dad,” he pants, “is fucking crazy.”  
  
"Tell me about it." There aren’t any people out here, so we sprint through the backyard and around the side of the house. Oli parked on the street, so we have to run across someone else’s lawn to get to the car. It’s harder to see now that the sky has darkened, but we find it fairly quickly. Once we’re safely inside and on the road, I take a shaky breath. "How did he find me?"  
  
"Probably drove around looking for a house with a bunch of cars surrounding it and some fucking loud music. There aren’t a whole lot of places to look. Everyone knows about these parties. Even your dad."  
  
I lean my head back. “He’s drunk,” I say. “He’s so fucking drunk. He never would’ve done this if he was thinking clearly.”  
  
"I know. But we’re going to my house now. He won’t find us there. Okay?"  
  
"Okay." I cover my face with my hands. "This night is going nothing like it was supposed to."  
  
I hear Oli opening the glove compartment before tapping me with something. I pull my hands away and find him holding a bottle of vodka out to me. “I normally don’t use this,” he says, “but it looks like you need some more of it.”  
  
Reluctantly I grab the bottle and put it to my lips. After taking a swig, I say, “You do know that if the police stop us, we’re fucked, right?”  
  
"We’re fucked already. But the cops are useless around here, and we’re almost at my house anyways."  
  
"What’ll your parents say when you come home drunk with some kid they’ve probably never seen before?"  
  
He shrugs. “They’ll ask where I’ve been but won’t be too concerned. I’ll say a party. They’ll ask who you are. I’ll say you’re a friend of mine. They’ll say ‘Okay,’ and that will be the end of it. I think it’s pretty sad that even though they ask, they really don’t care about the answer. But at least it’ll make things a hell of a lot easier.”  
  
In another five minutes we reach Oli’s house. The vodka bottle is half-empty. We head inside, and sure enough, literally the exact conversation that he predicted occurs. He leads me upstairs and into his room. He’s been in my room a thousand times, but up until now I’ve never been in his. The walls are painted black, but other than that it looks relatively normal. He’s got a bed. A side table. A desk. A TV. Some random shit on the floor.  
  
Oli pulls out a shot glass and another bottle of vodka out of a drawer. “Holy shit,” I say. “How much vodka do you have?”  
  
"Not as much as it looks," he replies, pouring some into the glass. "And like I said, I barely ever use it. But I figured I might as well have some, especially because my parents don’t give a shit."  
  
I kick my shoes off. “I’m gonna die tomorrow.”  
  
Oli shakes his head. “Nah. If your dad was really drunk, he probably won’t even remember it.”  
  
"Yeah, but he’ll hit me anyways. He doesn’t even need a reason. It’s just worse when he has one."  
  
Oli sets the glass and bottle down and stands close to me. He has this weird look on his face, and then without warning, he pulls me to him and kisses me.  
  
The taste of vodka is on his breath, but it’s on mine, too. The only thing I can distinguish is his lips, his hands, his body. Those are the only things I am certain exist.  
  
Everything else is a blur. When did we take our clothes off? When did we end up on the bed?  
  
All I know right now is that revenge is sweet. It seems Vic can replace me, but I can replace him just as easily. I said, “It was a one-time thing.” Well, fuck the one-time thing.


	12. Situations

**Chapter 12 - Vic**  
  
Jaime and I decide to go to Jen’s party afterwards. It looks like Kellin had the same idea.  
  
I can’t stop watching him and Oli, even with Jaime by my side. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s drinking, just like his father does. I mean, I drink, too—I’m drinking a little right now—but I know I can control it. I’ve seen Kellin lose control before, and it’s not pretty.  
  
Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s with Oli. I’m sort of friends with Oli, but the way they act and talk around each other just makes me want to push him away and take his place next to Kellin. I’m supposed to be there. I would be, too, if not for our fight.  
  
I shake my head and try to concentrate on here and now. I won’t call it a fight. I won’t even think about him standing over there, acting like I don’t exist. I don’t even have a right to be jealous. After all, I cheated on him again today, didn’t I?  
  
I start to discuss random topics with Jaime to distract myself. Before long, the thoughts of Kellin have completely left my mind, and all I know is the party, the vodka, and the guy standing next to me.  
  
That’s when the door bursts in.  
  
I can’t move and can’t speak. I can’t understand a word this guy is saying because I’m too focused on who this person is. Kellin’s father is crashing the party.  
  
I glance back at where Kellin and Oli were standing not long ago. They’re gone. Thank God—at least his dad won’t catch them.  
  
"You!" he snaps, and points at where I stand.  
  
He won’t catch them, but he will catch me.  
  
"Where is he?" He storms up to me. Up close, I can tell he’s insanely drunk. I’m surprised the police didn’t catch him while he was driving over here. "You would know where he is. I’m gonna kick his ass."  
  
"I—I don’t know!" I stammer, taking a few steps back. "I just got here. How’d you find this place?"  
  
"Wasn’t hard." He grabs me by my shirt and punches me. "Now you tell me where the fuck he is."  
  
The force makes me stumble and fall. He kicks me down before I can get back up. “Not so fast.”  
  
Jaime punches him. “You stay the hell away from him.”  
  
I pull myself to my feet and quickly survey the house. Normally someone probably would’ve called 911 by now, but I think everyone is too panicked and too drunk. I’m about to grab my cell phone from my pocket when another fist greets my face—a different one.  
  
"You’re going to fucking  _pay_ ,” Ian snarls, and hits me again.  
  
I fall to my knees again, so I grab his leg and yank him down with me. I stand up, but someone else grabs my arm and twists it backward. It’s one of Ian’s friends. Another one pops up and twists my other arm. I jump and kick out to the side, managing to hit one of the guys in the stomach. His grip loosens as he lurches back, and I rip my arm away and punch the other guy in the face. But just when I think I’m home free, Ian throws me back down to the floor.  
  
Someone smashes a bottle over his head, and he falls next to me. His two friends look at me once before turning away—I guess now that Ian’s nearly unconscious, I’m not that important. I stand up again. “Jaime!”  
  
Jaime bows exaggeratedly. “Let’s get out of this nuthouse.”  
  
I nod, and we sprint for the front door and out into the yard. We drove separately because Jaime and I came to the golf course in our own cars, but thankfully the cars aren’t far apart. “Where is Kell—he?” I ask, gesturing to the house. I was about to say “Kellin’s dad”, before I remembered that Jaime doesn’t know about what happens when Kellin goes home. He doesn’t understand how I know the guy back there, only that I do.  
  
"Uh, I redirected him. Said I saw the guy leave, whoever he was looking for. He probably would’ve seen through it if he hadn’t been so drunk. I didn’t even say who the guy was, ‘cause I didn’t know. I just said that I knew he went home. As if it was implied who ‘he’ was. Who was he looking for, anyway?"  
  
I can’t think of a convincing enough lie in time, so I just sigh and say, “Kellin. He wanted Kellin.”  
  
Jaime raises his eyebrows. “Why? Who was he?” At the panicked look on my face, he shakes his head. “Never mind. I don’t need to know. See you later.” He waves and gets into his car, and I climb into mine.  
  
When I walk through the front door, Mom is talking on the phone with someone. She glances up at me but then returns to listening to the person on the other end. “Mary, I really think you need to get him under control. Things like this might start happening more often.” She pauses for a moment. “Well, Kellin’s here right now, so rest assured—” She cuts off and sharply glances up at me again. “Where’s Kellin?” she hisses, covering the phone with her hand.  
  
"I, uh, I don’t know." Before she can react, I quickly add, "Who are you talking to?"  
  
"Kellin’s mother," she explains. "She says her husband’s gone."  
  
Holy shit. “He could just be out somewhere,” I suggest, aware of the way my voice cracks.  
  
"She says that—hold on a minute." Mom turns back to the phone. "Mary, I…I don’t know where Kellin is. He’s not here." She looks back at me. "Why isn’t he here?”  
  
"We had a, uh, a falling-out. Last I saw him, he was leaving Hoffman’s without me. I thought he was heading home. So he’s not there?" I make sure not to mention Oli or the party.  
  
Kellin’s mother must’ve heard me, because now she’s talking to mine again. “No, apparently not,” Mom tells me. “And it’s pretty essential that we find him because, well…his dad, he’s…”  
  
"Drunk and angry?" I guess.  
  
She nods. “Mary couldn’t stop him. He just stormed out of the house, jumped into the car, and drove away, and she couldn’t chase him. She says that before he left, he was yelling about all the things he was going to do to Kellin once he found him. And as I’m sure you probably know, when he says something like that…most of the time, he means it.” Again, she returns her attention to Kellin’s mother. “Mary, they could be anywhere. I think you should—hold on, Mary; what? What are you—Mary, I—Mary!”  
  
"What is it?" I ask.  
  
She sets the phone down. “Well, there’s good news and bad news. The good news is, Kellin’s father is back. The bad news is…well, Kellin’s father is back.”  
  
My heart starts to beat faster. Jaime told him that Kellin went home. Now he’s home, and Kellin’s not there, and he’s going to be even angrier. “So why did Kellin’s mom hang up so suddenly?”  
  
"Because her husband is drunk, and you and I both know what happens when he’s drunk," Mom replies grimly.  
  
It takes a moment to sink in. “I thought he only did that to Kellin.”  
  
She shakes her head. “No, it happens to Mary, too. And I’ve known it for a while now, but I’ve never done anything about it but be there for her. She’s my best friend, Vic, and she insists I keep her secret.”  
  
I nod. “I…know exactly what that’s like.”  
  
"But sometimes you have to break a promise and let the secret out," she continues. "Because that friend needs help, but they can’t see it or don’t want it. This is getting out of control. I’ll let it go once we get ahold of Kellin, because I know Mary can and will stand up for herself. But one more incident like this—tell me, Vic, if it happens to Kellin again—and I’m calling the authorities."  
  
"I’ll tell you," I say, and I mean it. I want this whole thing to be over as much as she does.  
  
I run upstairs to my room and pull my phone out, planning to call Kellin, find out where he is, talk to him. But as I stare at his name in my contacts, I have to stop to take everything in. I sit down on my bed, thinking about how fucked up this night turned out to be. And Kellin…Kellin’s going to be in some deep shit when he gets home.  
  
My grip automatically tightens on my phone at the thought of his father. I set it down slowly to avoid flinging it across the room. Kellin’s father fucks everything up, even his own family. So why was  _he_  kept alive? Why was it  _my_  dad that had a heart attack?  
  
My body jerks a little. I haven’t thought about Dad for a long time now.  
  
Why? Because Dad is dead, that’s why.  
  
I open a drawer in my side table and pull out an old family photo. I’m four years old here, and we’re all smiling, and Dad hasn’t had a heart attack yet. That was three years ago, when I was fourteen. Forty-five is a little young to have a heart attack, but our family has a history of heart problems. Plus, Dad smoked. I guess we all sort of knew that something like that could happen, but we never really thought or worried about it until it did.  
  
We act like it’s no big deal. We force it out of our minds. Kellin still automatically says “your parents” instead of “your mom” when he talks to me. I still pretend like he’s only working late. I haven’t thought about him for over a year. Sure, he’s been in the back of my mind, but I’ve always distracted myself, focused on loving living people instead of completely withdrawing. Most of the time I’d say it’s working nicely.  
  
The main difference between my dad and Kellin’s is quite simple: My dad was a pretty good dad. I admired him and wanted to be like him. Kellin’s dad is not a very good dad; that’s something we’ve agreed on for years. And if I become a parent, my main goal will be to be nothing like him.  
  
So with this, I put the picture down, wipe away the single damn tear I couldn’t stop, and pick my phone up again.  
  
"Hello? Vic?"  
  
"Kellin," I say, surprised at how relieved I am to hear his voice. "Where are you?"  
  
"Uh, I’m at Oli’s house. Why?"  
  
At the mention of Oli, that unreasonable sense of jealousy takes over me. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. It shouldn’t be this hard to control myself. “Your mom is, uh, panicked. ‘Cause your dad’s pissed.”  
  
He sighs. “I know he’s pissed. Did you see him? He fucking crashed the party.”  
  
"Did I see him? He interrogated me and then punched me in the face.”  
  
I can practically hear him grimacing. “Uh, sorry about that.”  
  
I snort. “It’s not your fault he was so wasted.”  
  
"Hey, wait…how’d you know about my mom?"  
  
"She talked to mine over the phone."  
  
"Uh…okay. Um, not to be rude, but…why are you calling me? Thought you said you wouldn’t care if I went to hell."  
  
 _Fuck._  I lie down on my side without bothering to take my shoes off.  _I forgot I said that._  
  
I can hear Oli’s voice in the background, but I don’t know what he’s saying. “Yeah, he said that,” Kellin says to him. “It’s okay, I’ll handle it.”  
  
"Look, Kellin…can I just talk to you tomorrow?" I ask.  
  
"Uh…sure. I’ll, uh, see you later then, Vic."  
  
"Okay. Bye."  
  
I stare at the screen long after the call ends, thinking about Kellin with Oli and me with Jaime. I guess I deserve it, don’t I? After all, I’m the one who doesn’t know when to stop.


	13. Misery Business

**Chapter 13 - Kellin**  
  
When I wake up the next morning, I have a hell of a hangover. I should’ve known I would. Well, I  _did_  know; I just didn’t care at the time. Now I do.  
  
The light from the window hurts my eyes, so I quickly squeeze them shut again. My head aches and the world feels like it’s spinning. I reach my hand over and feel another body beside mine. “Vic,” I mumble automatically. “Wake up.” I tap the body’s shoulder and reopen my eyes. My vision is blurry, but I can still tell that whoever is lying next to me has a  _lot_  of tattoos.  
  
Vic doesn’t have any tattoos.  
  
"Oli," I correct myself. "You awake?"  
  
Oli shuffles and opens his eyes slowly. “Fuck. Yeah, I’m awake.” He stretches his arm out, unintentionally lifting up the covers, which is when I notice that he’s only wearing pants.  
  
And I’m only wearing a shirt.  
  
"Hey," Oli rasps, not taking any notice to that. "Kellin, does alcoholism run in your family?"  
  
And that’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth? Shit; he seems a lot more coherent than I am. Did I drink more than him, or is he just more used to it?  
  
"Uh…yeah," I say. "My, uh, grandfather had it, too, I think. You know, along with…my dad."  
  
"Shit." He buries his head into his pillow. "Sorry."  
  
"For what?" I feel like I’m missing something.  
  
"For giving you that vodka. I didn’t think. I forgot you could turn…like that, too."  
  
"I’m not gonna become like my dad," I say. "I won’t."  
  
"Well, you’re starting to drink like him." He turns over on his stomach and props his head up with his hands. "Tell me, what do you think happened last night? What do you remember?"  
  
I shrug. “I went to a party. Drank a lot. And somehow I ended up sleeping here with you.” I glance down at the shirt I’m wearing. It’s a bit big on me, and I don’t remember ever wearing it before today. “And I think I’m wearing your shirt. Where are my clothes?”  
  
Oli points to a spot on the floor near my side of the bed, where a heap of clothes lies, thrown carelessly to the ground. “That’s partly my fault, too.”  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
He stares at me almost condescendingly. “Come on, Kellin. Do you really think you would’ve had sex with me if you’d been sober?”  
  
"I had sex with you?"  
  
Everything starts to come back to me. That look he gave me, of drunk desire. That first kiss. The way one thing led to another, and neither of us stopped it.  
  
Now he seems surprised. “Yeah. And that’s my fault. I took advantage of you—”  
  
"You were drunk, too. Look—it didn’t mean anything, okay? We can…get on with our lives."  
  
He nods. “So, it’s over now? For real this time?”  
  
"Yes." I pull my—Oli’s—shirt off and stand up, unsteadily heading over to my clothes pile and slipping them back on. I grab my phone from where it lies on the side table and check the time. 11:33. "Well, looks like we slept late. And I should probably be leaving soon."  
  
"Maybe your dad won’t remember what happened and let you off the hook." He smiles a little.  
  
I smile back. “We can only hope.”  
  
I reach for the doorknob, but his voice stops me. “Wait.”  
  
"What?"  
  
"Kellin…why did you kiss me? In the car, when you were sober?"  
  
I don’t look at him. I don’t want to tell him about Vic. “I needed you,” I say. “And I’m sorry for that. It was…a mistake. I needed you in the wrong way.” Then, without giving him a chance to reply, I leave him lying there. Maybe it’s rude, but I just want to get home and let whatever’s going to happen to me happen.  
  
I’m about halfway down the hall when I remember something and stop in my tracks. Oli must’ve remembered it, too, because a few seconds later he follows me out of the bedroom, fully-clothed. “I’ll drop you off,” he says.  
  
We hop into his car. The vodka bottle’s still there, a reminder of last night. Oli clears his throat awkwardly and shoves it back in the glove compartment.  
  
The ride is mostly silent. Finally, when we’re within minutes of my house, I say, “I hope this doesn’t make things… _weird_  between us.”  
  
He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m just…thinking.”  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Us. You and Vic. You and your dad."  
  
I sigh. “All problems.”  
  
"So you and Vic aren’t fixed yet?"  
  
"No." I stare out the window. "I thought we were, but things just keep happening." After a short pause, I add, "I just want to focus on one thing at a time."  
  
"Didn’t he say he wanted to talk to you today?"  
  
Oh yeah. The phone conversation. Luckily, Vic called after Oli and I were done having sex, while we were lying there trying to fall asleep. “Yeah. I’ll talk to him then. After…you know.”  
  
He nods, and at that moment, we pull into my driveway. “Well, this should be fun.”  
  
"Hooray." I stare at the front door. My heart starts beating faster just at the sight of it. "I don’t know why I’m afraid this time. I’m used to it."  
  
"I can stay here if you want. For, uh, moral support. And in case you need a quick getaway."  
  
I open the car door. “Nah, I’m okay. You can go. Thanks. I’ll update you later. You know, if I’m alive later.”  
  
He smiles faintly. I get out of the car, close the door, and slowly make my way to the front steps. I hear Oli pulling back out behind me and resist the urge to look over my shoulder. I stop at the porch and reach for the knob, praying it’s not locked.  _Okay,_  I think.  _Now turn the knob, hand._  But I can’t get my hand to respond. I’m frozen with a fear that’s completely unreasonable.  _Turn the knob,_  I think again, taking a deep breath.  
  
I turn the knob.  
  
 _Oh, thank God. It’s open. Maybe I can sneak in and hide—_  
  
"Mary, you get back here!"  
  
I dart up the first few stairs and peer over the ledge. My parents are arguing in the living room.  
  
"No." Mom’s voice. "I’ve been hiding for too long."  
  
"And you’ll keep hiding, you bitch," Dad snarls. "And when Kellin gets home, I’m going to teach him a lesson he’ll never forget, and you’re not going to interfere."  
  
"You’re killing him, you know that? You’re killing him."  
  
"How the hell would you know? You never even speak to him anymore."  
  
"He doesn’t need to say anything. I can see it, Mark. You  _kill_  him.”  
  
"Good. Let him die. I never wanted that damn kid anyway."  
  
"I never wanted  _you_  anyway!”  
  
I grip onto the railing. Neither of them had ever told me the story of how they met and why they decided to get married and start a family. Was I not even planned?  
  
"And you shouldn’t have come back," Mom continues. "I shouldn’t have even told you. I would’ve found someone. Someone who cared enough to raise a kid with me."  
  
“I cared enough to raise a fucking kid with you!” Dad snaps.  
  
"No. You didn’t. You felt guilty. You and I both know that. You hate us."  
  
 _Smack._  “You bitch, you’re going to regret ever saying anything—”  
  
I bolt down the stairs and into the living room. “Don’t!”  
  
Mom and Dad both look up. Dad smirks and cracks his knuckles. “Well, look who decided to join the party.”  
  
"Kellin." Mom’s voice is quiet and strangely calm, in stark contrast with the tone she used with Dad. "Get in the car. The doors are unlocked."  
  
"Kellin," Dad interrupts, stepping forward. "You’re in a little bit of trouble." He takes a swing.  
  
I duck, but not fast enough. His fist catches the upper left side of my face, causing me to spin slightly to the right. “No!” Mom yells, punching Dad in the nose. “Kellin, get in the car! Go!”  
  
I stand up and start to run, but glancing behind me, I see Dad gripping both of Mom’s wrists. He seems to be crushing them, pushing her down. I run back, but he doesn’t notice me, so I quickly sneak behind him, grab his arm, and twist it backward. He howls and releases Mom’s wrists, so she and I sprint for the front door. I reach it first and swing it open.  
  
The car is parked in the driveway, and sure enough, it’s unlocked. I hop into the driver’s side. “The keys,” I whisper to myself. “We need the keys.”  
  
At that moment, Mom jumps into the passenger side and throws the keys into my lap. I grab them and start the car, trying to steady my hands. “Where are we going?” I ask, looking out the window as Dad stumbles onto the porch.  
  
"I don’t know," Mom says breathlessly.  
  
"Well, that’s okay," I reply as an idea comes to me, “‘cause I do."  
  
We tear out of the driveway just as Dad comes within feet of the car. I drive faster than I’ve ever driven even after I know Dad can’t catch up. I don’t care about the police. They can go after Dad. I’m pretty sure he’s a bigger problem than someone speeding.  
  
"Where are we going?" Mom says.  
  
"The only place I feel safe," I reply.  
  
Mom raises an eyebrow. “Vic’s house?”  
  
I smile and nod, amazed. “Huh. You know me better than I thought you did.”  
  
"I thought that was a no-brainer. Of course you feel safer at his house. I do, too, and I haven’t been there in years." She pauses. "How much did you hear back there?"  
  
I hesitate. “I was an accident.”  
  
She sighs. “A one-night stand. We never dated. We’d only been friends, not even good friends. We were stupid. When I told him I was pregnant…we decided it would be best for us to raise you together. That was before he…went off the deep end. So we got married, and for a while it wasn’t bad. And then…it was.”  
  
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “He  _does_  hate us, doesn’t he?”  
  
She sighs again. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Yeah, I think he does.”  
  
I grimace. “It’s my fault. Sorry. For, uh, screwing up your life.”  
  
"No, Kellin. It’s not your fault. We screwed up our own lives. You didn’t choose this. You were forced into this life. So don’t blame yourself."  
  
After a second or two, I laugh a little. “Vic once told me, ‘Someday you’re gonna apologize just for being born.’ Guess he was right.”  
  
We park in Vic’s driveway and head up to the porch. “Well, here we go,” I mutter.  
  
I grab the doorknob, but this one’s locked, so I knock on the door, harder than I intended. Shortly after, I hear footsteps, and then Vic opens the door. When he realizes who is standing in front of him, the confusion sets in. He gives Mom and I both a quick once-over, his gaze lingering on our bruises and disheveled appearance. “Mom!” he yells. “You can call the authorities now.”  
  
In the background, I see Vic’s mother glance in our direction. As soon as she notices us, she grabs the phone and starts dialing. “I’ll help explain,” Mom says, rushing to her side.  
  
Vic motions for me to step through the door, so I do, closing it behind me. Vic meets my eyes, and now I can see fear and alarm written all over him. “What happened?”  
  
I give him my standard answer. “Dad happened.”  
  
"I’m gonna need more explanation than that." He takes my arm and practically drags me upstairs. Once we’re in his room, he stands close to me and says, "Now, what happened?"  
  
I sigh and sit down on his bed. “Mom and Dad were arguing when I got home. I, uh, interrupted right when Dad started throwing punches. Then Mom told me to get in the car…and we did. We ran. Dad chased after us, but he couldn’t catch us.”  
  
"Was he drunk?"  
  
I shrug. “I can barely remember what he’s like sober. So yeah, I guess so. I just…I think we’re gonna be staying here for a little while.”  
  
"Okay." He sits down next to me and takes ahold of my shirt. Examining it, he says, "Hey. This shirt still has blood on it. From yesterday. From Ian."  
  
I glance down at the area he’s holding. Yep, there’s a bloodstain. There are a few more on other places. Vic heads over to his dresser and digs through a mess of unfolded clothes. “Here,” he says, tossing me a random black shirt. I catch it in midair, set it down, and start to pull my own shirt off. Unconsciously, I take a quick look at my chest. That’s when it hits me.  
  
Oli and I had sex last night, and we were completely naked. That means that unless he was too drunk to notice it—which is a possibility—Oli saw my scar.  
  
The guilt I’ve successfully suppressed all day attacks with a vengeance. I try not to show it and focus on putting Vic’s shirt on. I inhale the smell of it, of him, and it’s like a drug. I don’t know why it matters so much that Oli could’ve seen the scar. Maybe it’s just that it’s something I’ve only shown Vic. It’s something I wanted only him to know about, and I promised to not even tell Oli it exists. I mean, he knows about the car crash—everyone does—but I’ve always hidden what it left behind. And the fact that he probably did see it, though he didn’t talk about it…it reminds me that I’m as bad as Vic now. I have no right to be upset now.  
  
"Hey," I say. "So…yesterday you said you wanted to talk to me. Why’d you wait? You’d already called me."  
  
"Um." He sits back down. "I didn’t want to bother you while you were, uh…with…Oli. I just needed to know where you were."  
  
"Oh. Well…I’m not with him anymore. I’m here. You can talk to me now."  
  
He takes a breath. “I don’t like admitting this, Kellin…but I got jealous when you were with him.”  
  
I turn to face him. “With Oli? You got…jealous?”  
  
"Yeah. And I knew it was my fault, too. If we hadn’t…if I’d just stopped pressing you, back at Hoffman’s…you wouldn’t have even left. You wouldn’t have gone with him."  
  
"Well…you were with Jaime last night, too." It’s close enough to bringing up the fact that he’s cheating without actually letting him know that I know.  
  
"How did you know that?"  
  
I shrug. “Who says I didn’t stay for a little while? I saw you two together. Messing around. Being happy.”  
  
"Hold on, wait. What are you saying here?"  
  
"I’m just saying that you hang out with other guys, too—"  
  
"No, no, no. You’re…saying something. What do you mean… _being happy_?”  
  
I sigh and lie down on the bed, covering my face with my hands. “Just let it go, Vic—”  
  
"No." He pulls my hands away and tries to make eye contact with me, but I purposely look away. "Kellin, do you really think I’m just gonna let it go?"  
  
No. I know him better than that. “I wish you would.”  
  
"Well, I won’t. Not that easily."  
  
"You said it yourself. If you hadn’t kept pressing me, we wouldn’t have argued, I wouldn’t have left…we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now."  
  
That stops him for a moment. “Please, Kellin,” he says, softer. “I want to know what you’re thinking.”  
  
I sigh again. “What I’m thinking, Vic, is the same thing I’m always thinking. I’m thinking that you’d be happier without me. That you’d be better off with…someone else.”  
  
His eyes widen a little. “Kellin, no! I don’t want to be with someone else. Look—it may seem bad now. But we all have to go through some shit, you know? We don’t give up just because we’re losing. It doesn’t mean we’ve lost.”  
  
"Vic, sometimes things have to fall apart. Sometimes you have to lose people. And you’re losing me."  
  
He takes a shuddering breath, biting his lip and looking away. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not losing you.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than me. “I’m not losing you. Not you, too.”  
  
"I’m sorry. Really, I am." As I say this, I can feel a physical pain in my chest, but there’s also acceptance. "But Jaime’s better for you. Not just him…anyone else, really. Like I said…you’d be happier with someone else."  
  
Vic clenches his fists and stands up. He’s still staring at anywhere but me, and I can tell, judging by his facial expression, that it’s because if he looks at me, he’ll lose it. Not “lose it” as in get angry, like he usually would. “Lose it” as in burst into tears, which is something I hardly ever see him do.  
  
"Fine," he says. "Fine. I’ll go. I’ll leave, if that’s what you want. But I’m coming back. It’s my house.”  
  
He opens the door and walks out, down the hall, leaving our argument behind, if you could call it that. There was no screaming, no insults. There is a certain air left in the room, but it’s not tense. It just feels final.  
  
For a moment I want to run after him, pull him back in here, take back every word I said. I want to tell him he’s not better with Jaime; he’s mine and nobody else’s. But I don’t, not because I’m too proud, but because I’d be lying—he is better off with Jaime. So instead I lie down on his bed and close my eyes, thinking about how hard it’s going to be to let him go.


	14. Tally It Up, Settle the Score

**Chapter 14 - Vic**  
  
I manage to compose myself into a calm mask by the time I pass the living room.  
  
Mom glances up. “Where are you going?”  
  
"Out," I say, grabbing the car keys off of the counter. "I’ll be back. I just…need to get some air. It’s been a long day. And it’s not even over yet." I don’t wait for a reply. I have to get out of here. I can’t keep this façade up for much longer.  
  
I step outside and hurry into the car. Once I’m sure that no one’s watching me, I rest my head on the steering wheel and squeeze my eyes shut. Kellin knows. He has to know, or at least have his suspicions, unless it’s some freaky coincidence. And he’s not even fighting it. He’s just accepting what he thinks is true: that he’s not good enough for me. That’s bullshit.  
  
And isn’t that sort of what Ian did, too? Kellin may or may not have more evidence than Ian did, but he’s not even confronting me about it. He has to know how much I care about him—I practically spelled it out—but just like Ian, he’s choosing to ignore it. He might as well be falling, about to die, and refusing to take my hand when he knows very well that he could reach it.  
  
As I sit up and start the car, I think,  _I have to go back. I have to fix this._  But my hands are shaking, and I know that if I go back, if I even think about him, I’ll lose the very small amount of calmness or control that I still have over myself. As I back out onto the road, the phrase I’ve been using way too often enters my thought process again:  _I need a distraction._  
  
I know it’s wrong. Every part of me knows it’s wrong, and with each second that I use to drive farther away, I’m internally screaming at myself to go back. I know I’ll regret it, and I know I need to stop distracting myself, but right now it seems I just don’t care.  
  
So when I park the car in Jaime’s driveway, I sit there for ten minutes still arguing with myself.  
  
My phone rings, and without checking to see who it is, I answer it. “Hello?”  
  
"I can see you parked in my driveway," Jaime says. "You gonna come in or what?"  
  
"Uh." I bite my lip.  _I should go back._  
  
"Is something happening?"  
  
"Uh…yeah. That’s kind of why I’m here."  
  
"So…are you coming in, or going back to…well, wherever you came from?"  
  
"Um…can I come in?" I turn the car off and get out.  
  
"Yeah, sure." He hangs up, and as I walk to the front door, I see him stick his head out his bedroom window on the second story. "Come hither, Victor!"  
  
I laugh, before remembering that only Kellin calls me Victor. It hurts to feel like I’m replacing him—which is probably exactly what he thinks I’m doing.  
  
The door is unlocked, and Jaime meets me at the bottom of the staircase, locking the door behind me. “That probably should’ve been locked the whole time. My parents are both downstairs. The basement’s almost done. Finally.” (Jaime’s basement is in the process of being remodeled, and his parents decided to do it themselves. It’s actually been coming along quite nicely.)  
  
"So," Jaime says as he leads me upstairs, "what is it this time? Boyfriend problems again?"  
  
"Maybe." I sit down on his bed, unwilling to think too much about it.  
  
"And let me guess…you want to forget about the problem by doing things you’ll probably regret?"  
  
I don’t respond. He’s spot-on, and it makes me realize something: I’m using him. He doesn’t care—in fact, sometimes he even asks for it—but I’m using him either way.  
  
I should go back. This isn’t helping anything. I need to stop.  
  
"So I can take that as a yes?" he asks.  
  
Still stuck in a daze, I slowly pull my shirt off and turn to him. Meeting his eyes, I smile a little, and it feels so horrible and wrong, but I don’t care at all. “Yes. You can take that as a yes.”  
  
Once again, everything else vanishes as soon as I feel him. Even that little voice in the back of my head is silenced. The slow kisses speed up quickly, and before we know it, we’re grinding against each other on the bed. I’m on top, but Jaime spins us around. Our lips part for one moment, and I open my eyes and give him a sly smile before crawling out from under him and completely pulling my clothes off. We’ve got work to do.  
  
I’m not used to being on the bottom. Kellin and I have only switched roles once, and automatically I think back to that time. It was a Saturday, and we’d just finished watching a shitty movie. Most of the time, though, we didn’t really focus on the movie; apparently, making out seemed a lot more entertaining. I remember Kellin on my lap, asking me if I wanted to try something different. It was his idea, and I was curious, so that was what we did. I think the experiment was mostly us mimicking each other, doing what we’ve seen each other do.  
  
Something about the flashback disorients me so that I think I’m back in that time. I think I’m the Vic I was then. It’s not until we’re done, when I hear Jaime’s voice, that I realize where I am and who is now lying next to me. Today is a different Saturday. I didn’t just have sex with Kellin. I’m not with Kellin at all. I might not even be “with” him anymore—after all, he  _did_  just break up with me.  
  
Those words hit me hard. “Break up”. I mean, that’s the official term, but it sounds so final. Everything seems final between us lately, and I don’t want us to be over. I told him I’d come back, and I will.  
  
"Earth to Vic," Jaime says. "You’re gone, buddy. Where’d you go?"  
  
 _Oh._  Must’ve been spacing out. “Nowhere important,” I lie. I sit up slowly, grabbing my clothes. “I have to go back. But, uh…thanks.”  
  
He pushes himself up and grabs his own clothes, both of us acting like what just happened didn’t just happen. “No problem.”  
  
I’m about halfway down the stairs, still in a daze, when I hear a familiar ringtone. My phone—I left it up there. I turn around and head back, but when I’m standing in front of the closed door of Jaime’s room, I hear him talking—into my phone. He must’ve answered it.  
  
"Oh, really?" he’s saying. "You know, it seems like you’re causing a  _lot_  of problems, Kellin.”  
  
My breath catches. Kellin. He’s talking to Kellin. Kellin called me…after he told me to leave.  
  
"Too late," Jaime continues. "He just left. Though he’ll probably be back when he realizes he forgot his phone. You can talk to him then, but I don’t think it’ll do much good."  
  
I can’t move. I want to burst in and take the phone from him. I want to leave everything I’ve ever done with him behind. But I can’t do anything, because I can’t even walk through that door.  
  
"You know why not," Jaime says. "I already told you. You’re losing. I mean, you and Vic had a good run, I’ll admit, but your relationship is falling to pieces. You and I both know that."  
  
 _Is it really that obvious?_  I wonder, and then I scold myself.  _No. You’re wrong, Jaime. We’re not falling to pieces. I won’t let us._  
  
"Gotcha, didn’t I? See, you know it. You’re toxic, Kellin. Poisonous. And anyone who gets too close to you…they get hurt. Take, for example, Ian. He’s probably hurt you a lot more by now, but the reason for that? You hurt him. He got close to you, and you hurt him. Even if it wasn’t really you."  
  
 _No. You’re wrong._  
  
"You’re digging your own grave. You try to patch things up with Vic after some sort of falling out, and things are good for a little while, and then what happens? Another falling out. And where does Vic go when he doesn’t want to think about you? Me. He comes to  _me_.”  
  
My hand flies up to cover my mouth and muffle my voice; I can’t help but let a tiny yelp out. The worst part is that Jaime really isn’t wrong. Not completely. It sounds horrible when he puts it that way, but it’s not exactly all false. I’ve been running to him to escape my problems, and most of those problems come from some shit Kellin and I have started between us.  
  
Jaime laughs into the phone. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. Then again, who are you to talk, Kellin? Aren’t you the one who chases him away in the first place?”  
  
 _Not exactly,_  I think.  _I didn’t choose to run this time. He pushed me away. He wanted me to come here._  
  
"Well, that’s different," Jaime says. "Does this mean you’re surrendering or something? You accept that you’ve, well, lost? Because let’s face it, Kellin: You  _did_  lose. Know what we did today? We fucked.”  
  
I close my eyes and cover my ears, focusing on breathing in and out. I mean, I was already pretty sure Kellin knew something, but now it’s official. He knows everything. My imagination taunts me with images of what he must look like right now, and I sink to my knees with the weight of it.  
  
Even with my ears blocked, I can still faintly hear Jaime, cruelly pushing forward. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Don’t have anything to say. Come on, you can’t be  _that_ shocked. You knew it’d happen eventually. Thought that was what you wanted.”  
  
I rush to my feet, ripping my hands from my ears and shoving the door open. For a moment I see his surprise, but he quickly masks it. “Well, looks like your ex has returned. If you still want to talk to him—”  
  
"Hang up." My voice comes out sounding stronger than I expected. "Now."  
  
"Well, I know he certainly doesn’t want to talk to you," Jaime tells Kellin.  
  
"Jaime," I say. "Hang. Up."  
  
He shrugs, hangs up, and tosses the phone to me. I catch it with one hand. “Jaime, that…that was way too far.”  
  
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? I think he handled it quite nicely.”  
  
"Jaime, I’m serious," I snap. "What is this, a war? Over me? Kellin isn’t losing. It was never a contest in the first place. I love him. You know I love him."  
  
We’re both silent as my words sink in:  _I love him._  I mean, it’s always been sort of implied, but now that I’ve said it—said it like it was obvious, like I meant it, without even being asked—everything seems final, again. But this is something I want to be final.  
  
"I…I’m leaving," I say as my temporary burst of bravery steadily decreases. "I’m going to talk to Kellin. In person. This never happened." Then I run down the stairs and out the front door without so much as a glance over my shoulder.  
  
I call Kellin back when I reach the car, but he doesn’t answer and I get his voicemail instead. “Uh…hey,” I say. “Listen…so, uh, I’m coming back. Disregard everything you just heard. Bye. Oh, and PS: Jaime’s a son of a bitch. No offense to his mother.”  
  
That last part is a bit of an inside joke of ours. Hopefully it’ll make him laugh, and maybe for a moment he’ll forget about all the pain I’ve caused him. Maybe, for one moment, he’ll remember what we used to be.


	15. Sick Little Games

**Chapter 15 - Kellin**  
  
I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my head on them. I’m not crying. In fact, I’m not feeling much of anything except a dull pain that I know will hurt more once the shock dies down.  
  
Jaime’s right. I shouldn’t be surprised, especially not since I was the one who told Vic to leave. He’s also right about me knowing that it would happen eventually…but I never expected to be notified about it. I guess I  _did_  dig my own grave.  
  
I hadn’t necessarily called to apologize or try to fix things. I’d called to confirm that we were officially broken up, that my lips would never again touch his. I’d called to say goodbye.  
  
I check my phone, which rang a few minutes ago—I was too distraught to pick it up—and find a voicemail that Vic left. I almost don’t want to listen to it, but I do, smiling a little at the last part. Automatically, I start to get excited at the thought of him coming back, but then I remember that I just kicked him out of his own house and that, at least from what Jaime says, they just had sex.  
  
I shift my thoughts to my dad. I don’t know what’s going to happen to him. Will he be put in rehab for his addiction? Will Mom and I get our house back? And is it bad that I’m relieved he’s probably, hopefully, going to leave?  
  
I’m lying on the bed, staring at the wall and contemplating these things, when I hear the door open and close. I don’t turn to see who it is, though I already know even before he says, “So it looks like your dad’s headed to rehab.”  
  
I sit up as he paces back and forth. “Really?”  
  
Vic nods. “Personally, I think he should be arrested, but your mom refuses to let anyone else know about the other stuff. But at least he’ll be gone.”  
  
"Wait, why should he be arrested? What other stuff?"  
  
"Well, let’s see." He starts to tick things off on his fingers. "There’s domestic violence, child abuse, plus his addiction. The guy doesn’t exactly have a clean slate."  
  
"Whoa, what’s this about abuse and violence?" I ask. "It wasn’t  _that_  bad.” Or was it? “He just hit me sometimes. And, uh…Mom, too, I guess.”  
  
"Kellin." Suddenly he grabs my arm, pointing at the assortment of black and blue marks. "I know that some of these are from Ian, but not all of them. And the black eye wasn’t from Ian, either. These were all from your own father, a man who was supposed to protect you from harm, not cause it. You act like it doesn’t hurt you, but I know it does."  
  
I don’t respond or look at him. I’m too busy thinking about every time Dad has yelled at me and smacked me, every time he left welts and bruises on my body. I think about all the times I’ve hidden in my room, afraid of him—all the times I’ve blasted my music or shot at virtual people to drown him out. I think about how desperately I’ve tried to avoid him my entire life. Vic’s right. It’s not discipline anymore, not when it makes me terrified of my own father.  
  
And then I remember that Vic wastes all his time worrying about me because of this, so I stand up, pulling my arm away. For the first time in what seems like ages, I feel dangerously brave. This bravery is what causes me to head for the door, not knowing what exactly I’m about to do but knowing I’m about to do something. Vic picks up on this—or at least figures out that something isn’t right—and calls, “Wait! Where are you going?”  
  
"Somewhere," I reply shortly.  
  
Vic stops abruptly. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”  
  
I stop, too, and slowly turn around. “Maybe. That depends what you think I’m doing.”  
  
He shakes his head in astonishment. “No. You’re not going anywhere.”  
  
I lean on the door. “Who says?”  
  
"I say."  
  
"Well, I don’t care what you say." The lie burns in my throat. I do care what he says—in fact, that’s the reason I haven’t left already.  
  
"You can’t do this." His voice cracks. "You’re not thinking straight. You have to…you can’t… _no_.” His eyes flit nervously everywhere, first glancing at me, and then at the door, and then at some other place entirely, before settling back on me.  
  
I can’t look at him. I turn back to the door and softly say, “It’s better this way.”  
  
I’m about to open it when Vic grabs my arm and yanks me backwards, causing me to nearly crash into him. “No!” he gasps. I can feel his hands shaking. “It’s not better this way. You’re seeing everything all wrong. Your perception is so fucked up, and maybe that’s my fault. But you have to…you have to stay.”  
  
I slip out of his grip and put my hands on both sides of his face, like I used to do right before I kissed him. It hurts me even more the longer I stare into his eyes, but for his sake I won’t look away. “Listen to me, Vic,” I say calmly. “This is for your own good, and everyone else’s. I’m leaving. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”  
  
"No!" Vic steps backward, and I notice a few tears that I didn’t see before. Vic never cries—not in front of me, anyways. I thought that was my job.  
  
"Damn it!" I yell. "Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry." Hearing my own voice, a memory resurfaces—of my father telling me not to cry, that boys don’t cry, that I’m weak and stupid if I cry. And I realize that I sound almost exactly like him, the man I swore I’d never become.  
  
My arm snaps out without me intending to. The next thing I know, my hand is stinging and Vic is holding the side of his face, shocked. I hold my hand up and stare at it as if I’ve never seen it before. I feel like it’s betrayed me. I’ve never hit Vic. I wouldn’t. But I did.  
  
"This," I say, "is why I have to leave. Today Jaime said I was toxic. Poisonous. And he was right. I’m destructive. A time-bomb."  
  
"No." His face starts to change. The panic is still there, but warring with it is determination. He doesn’t pay attention to the fact that I just slapped him across the face. He’s not backing down easily.  
  
"Vic," I begin, "listen to me—"  
  
"No,  _you_  listen to  _me_!” he says. “Kellin, I’m not having a repeat of September. Or what September would’ve been.”  
  
That catches me off-guard, and he knows it. “No. You’re not—you can’t bring this up. You promised me. You promised we’d never bring it up again.”  
  
"Well, fuck that. I need to." His gaze strays to my chest, where just underneath my clothing is the scar I’ve tried so hard to hide. "I don’t know if you still feel this way, but I know you did at one point: You felt jealous. Right? Guilty, too, probably, but also jealous."  
  
I close my eyes in an effort to block out the image of the man who died because of me, his body crushed and bloody. “I never meant to hurt anyone,” I say. “I never meant for anyone to die.”  
  
Vic steps forward. “But that’s a lie, isn’t it? That car accident—it wasn’t an accident. You weren’t trying to kill anyone but yourself.”  
  
There. He said it. And, of course, he’s right. I did want to get into that crash. I was trying to kill myself. But I fucked up. I guess that’s what I get for being so willing to risk another life just to end my own. I’ll admit, it was a bit spontaneous, but at least nobody suspected anything. It was written off as an accidental collision. I told Vic and Oli the truth because I felt they deserved to know—and to relieve some of the burden of living alone with the secret. But we haven’t directly spoken about it since the last day of September. Until now.  
  
He’s also right about how I felt about the man who died. I was guilty and jealous—I still am. I’m guilty for causing an innocent man to die. I’m jealous because it was supposed to have been me. And I want to make things right.  
  
"Let me go, Vic," I plead. "Let me end all this. It’ll be so much better for everyone if I’m just gone."  
  
"Not everyone."  
  
"Oh, really?" I laugh bitterly. "Enlighten me, then. Name one person whose life would be worse without me."  
  
"Me," Vic says firmly. "You’re so fucking stubborn and so fucking convinced that you do nothing but hurt people. Kellin, we all hurt people, and we all get hurt by people. That’s the sad truth. But people help, too. We’re not just destruction. You think you’re a lost cause, but you’re not. You only become a lost cause when you’re dead."  
  
We simply stare at each other for a long moment of silence before Vic breaks it. “I’m not going to lose anyone else,” he says. And that’s what sells it.  
  
Giving in, I lie down on the bed and gaze up at the ceiling. Vic sighs in relief and lies down next to me, resting his head on my chest. “Thank you,” he whispers. “I…I was so fucking terrified. I thought I’d…lost you.” He smiles faintly. “That sounds like something from a movie.”  
  
I smile back at him. “So…are we not broken up?”  
  
He shakes his head and links his fingers with mine. “Don’t even think about it.”  
  
—  
  
Mom and I are staying with Vic’s family for a few more days. I think our house is empty by now, with Dad in rehab, but Vic’s mother said that if we wanted to we could be here for a little while longer.  
  
Vic and I spend most of Sunday simply enjoying each other’s company. I’m pretty sure Vic’s just happy that I’m still alive, and in a weird way, I kind of am, too, because if I were dead right now, I wouldn’t be with him. There are a lot of things that we know we should probably discuss at some point, but I think we’re both kind of savoring the calmness before we bring up our problems again.  
  
As I’m waking up on Monday morning, I notice that Vic, sleeping next to me, seems a little tense. His hands are brought up to his chest and clenched into fists, and after a few seconds of watching him, he shakes his head and murmurs, “No…no, don’t do that.” After another second or two, his eyes squeeze a bit tighter and he says again, a bit louder, “No. Please.”  
  
"Hey," I say softly, shaking his shoulder. "Vic."  
  
He pushes me away, though I don’t think he realizes this. I shake him harder. “Hey. Vic, wake up.”  
  
He groans, stretches a little, and rubs his eyes. “What? What is it?”  
  
"You were, uh…not sleeping well. So I woke you up."  
  
He nods absently. “Um…thanks.”  
  
"No problem." I hop out of bed, surprisingly awake. "You okay now?"  
  
"Uh." He shuffles around and slowly sits up. "Yeah, sure."  
  
I can tell that whatever dream Vic had, it left him a bit unnerved, but I don’t press for details. He doesn’t tell me about it until we’re alone in the car on the way to school, when he says, “I dreamt that I was too late.”  
  
I turn to him in confusion. “Too late for what?”  
  
He hesitates. “For you. I was too late to…stop you.”  
  
All at once I know what he means. “I’m sorry.”  
  
He opens his mouth to object, but I cut him off. “And yes, it  _is_  my fault. I’m sorry you had to see me about to kill myself, and I’m sorry it scared you practically to death, and I’m sorry you had a nightmare about losing me because it happened, and I’m sorry I hit you when you were afraid. I’m sorry I hit you at all.”  
  
Unconsciously, Vic touches his face where I smacked him. He acts like it didn’t affect him, but we both know it did. My father might be out of my life now, but that doesn’t mean he’s out of my past. It doesn’t mean he couldn’t have already rubbed off on me.  
  
"I…it’s okay," Vic says dismissively, parking the car and jumping out. "Let’s just go to class."  
  
A surge of rage washes over me when I get to my locker and see Jaime standing at his. I take a breath and approach him slowly. “Hey.”  
  
Jaime raises his eyebrow. “Is this about Vic or not?” he asks, quick to get straight to the point. “Because the last time we talked, I thought you said you were giving up.”  
  
"Well, not anymore. That’s not me anymore." After the second sentence is out, I realize that it’s true. There’s something inside of me that hasn’t been inside of me in forever, and that’s determination. It’s something Vic has had as long as I’ve known him, and maybe he’s passed some on to me. For once, I’m not completely ready to give up.  
  
"Ooh." Jaime pretends he isn’t surprised, but I can tell he wasn’t prepared for that. "Kellin’s back in the game."  
  
"Yes. I am. I’m not just gonna stop fighting."  
  
He nods. “Well, we’ll see how this turns out.”  
  
"Good. I wish you the best of luck," I say calmly, before turning back around and heading to first period. I’m not letting him think that he’s won anything. I’m not letting him think, even for one moment, that I’ve quit whatever sick game we’re playing.  
  
The beginning of the day passes by in a normal fashion, but that lasts until around the transition from fourth period to fifth. While I’m walking down the hallway, I pass one of the many supply closets. There are only a few people in this area at the moment, so nobody notices when two hands suddenly grab me from behind and shove me into the closet.  
  
"What the hell—?" I begin, spinning around to try to catch a glimpse of my attacker and nearly tripping over something in the process. My hand fumbles for the light switch, but I don’t get to it, because someone pushes me down. I think it’s only one person, and judging by what little I can see in the dark, it isn’t Ian—not large enough. A bunch of kids would probably have some excuse to do this—even if it’s just that they don’t like me—but within a few seconds I know exactly who it is.  
  
I don’t have time to think about that, though, because then he knocks something over my head, and I can’t think about anything.  
  
—  
  
I wake up to a bright light and a pounding headache. When I roll over onto my side, I slam into a wall. Moaning, I push myself up to a sitting position.  
  
"Kellin? Is that you?"  
  
My body jerks, my heart instinctively beating a million times faster and my eyes flying open. “Oli?” I whisper, breathing slowly to calm myself down. “What are you doing here?”  
  
"Oh, I just, you know, got kidnapped. And, uh…stripped naked. Nothing big or anything. What about you?"  
  
I turn my head to where his voice is coming from. Turns out, he is almost completely naked—and, I realize, so am I. “The same thing, I think. Where the hell are our clothes?”  
  
"Uhh." There’s a bit of shuffling. I rub my eyes to get rid of some of the blurriness. "Here, I think I found something." He throws me my shirt. "Do you have any idea who did this?"  
  
"Uh, yeah." I start digging around the messy closet. "It was Jaime. And I know why, too."  
  
Oli pops his head up and gives me a confused stare. “It’s about Vic,” I say. “Jaime, uh…has a  _thing_  for him.”  
  
He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Jaime? I didn’t think he was…” He trails off, searching for the right words. “You know. I didn’t think he was the kind of guy to do something like this. And I didn’t think he was…attracted…to Vic.”  
  
"Yeah, well, me neither. You think you know somebody. Basically, it’s like we’re playing a game, and Vic is the prize. I think this was a warning at the least. And a sabotage at the most."  
  
"That’s…sick."  
  
I sigh. “Tell me about it.” My fingers brush across the familiar fabric of my jeans, so I stand up to put them on. “I don’t know what it has to do with you, either, except for that you’re one of the only other people associated with me.”  
  
Oli starts to stand up, too. I guess he’s also found his pants. “And what’s with the lack of clothes? Bastard.”  
  
"I don’t know, but—"  
  
I don’t get to finish my sentence.  
  
Oli and I are half-naked. The supply closet is a mess. And this is the moment when someone opens the door.


	16. Bulletproof Love

**Chapter 16 - Vic**  
  
“Well, when it comes to Kellin and Vic, I have to say I don’t know what to think anymore.”  
  
I turn to the sound of the voice. I’m walking from sixth period to seventh, and it seems like a group of girls are discussing Kellin and I.  
  
"What do you mean?" one of them asks. "Did something else happen?"  
  
"Apparently," replies the first girl I heard. "Some kids found Kellin with this senior guy. In a closet, I think. They were, like, in the middle of putting their clothes back on or something."  
  
I almost stop walking. What the hell?  
  
One girl makes a disgusted face. “Are you serious? They were  _doing it_? At  _school_? In a _closet_?”  
  
"When Kellin’s dating Vic?" another one adds.  
  
 _Is that why neither of them were in the cafeteria during lunch?_  “Hey!” I call, somehow able to keep my voice even.  
  
The girls spin around, and I can see the alarm on all of their faces when they realize who’s talking to them. “Uh,” one stammers. “We weren’t—”  
  
"Uh, it’s okay," I say quickly. "I just want to know something—who found them? And when?"  
  
"It was between lunch and sixth period, I’m pretty sure," the first girl says. "I don’t know who found them, though. I just know they were freshmen. Three, I think. Started telling everybody. That’s how some other people figured out the guy Kellin was with was a senior, ‘cause the kids who found ‘em didn’t know. And they knew Kellin because, well, everyone does."  
  
As I’m watching them, I can tell they’re trying to figure out whether or not to feel sorry for me. I mean, they probably still think I was cheating on Kellin. “Okay. Thanks.” I nod at them and rush to seventh period.  
  
I can’t focus. I don’t know how to feel. All I can think is that I have to talk to him. I have to talk to him and I have to know what’s happening. We have to settle this once and for all.  
  
When the class ends, I practically jump out of my seat and race to the doorway. Within a few seconds, I see Kellin farther down the hallway, and he spots me at around the same time. He sprints toward me, and as he gets closer, I notice an almost wild look in his eyes and that his face is all red. Nearly crashing into me, he grabs my arm and drags me into the bathroom, which is empty. Still in a clear panic, he lets go of my arm and then grabs me by my shirt, pulling me so that my face is inches from his. “ _Kill me_!”  
  
I reel backward into a corner, startled. “What?”  
  
"Kill me," he repeats, voice rough and shaking all over the place. "I don’t care how."  
  
"Are you insane?"  
  
"Please." He lets go of me and takes a few steps back, glancing around frantically. His gaze rests on the mirrors above the sinks. "It’ll be better this way." Slowly, he heads for the nearest sink and stands directly in front of it, staring at himself in the mirror. There’s something different about him today than there was on Saturday. On Saturday he was more grim—accepting, even. But right now, he just seems overwhelmingly desperate.  
  
"Kellin." I walk over to him. "What do you think you’re doing?"  
  
For a moment, everything is silent. Then he says, “It’s glass.”  
  
I grab his arm right before his fist can touch the mirror. I pull it and twist it, using both hands to the point that Kellin is almost in a chokehold. I shake my head violently. “No,” I gasp, my breath close to his ear. “Not today. Not ever.”  
  
All of a sudden I remember the things that a group of girls told me, the things everyone thinks Kellin did with some senior. The things he might have done with some senior. Why don’t I want to kill him right now? Why aren’t I mad at him?  
  
The answer comes to me as quickly as the questions did: It’s because I am not like Ian. I do not believe everything I hear. I do not always expect the worst. And right now, I don’t care if Kellin  _did_  do everything people say he did. All I care about right now is keeping him alive.  
  
We both glance up at the sound of footsteps getting closer. I let go of him, and he steps away from me just as a few boys enter the restroom. They exchange glances when they see us, and they snort and giggle when I tell Kellin, “We’ll talk later.” They probably think I was about to beat him up or something.  
  
We both head out and hurry to our next classes, but I’m even more unfocused during eighth period than I was during seventh. I can’t think about anything but how close he was to smashing the mirror and killing himself with the pieces.  
  
I haven’t been this afraid since September, after I found out that Kellin crashed his car and after he told me why. The whole rest of that month, whenever I wasn’t with him, I was terrified that he’d try again. It was a constant fear that one of those days I’d wake up to Mom telling me that he was dead, that soon I’d have to attend another funeral. On the very last day of September, we made a pact that we’d never again speak of what happened. And Kellin promised to me that he’d hold on at least until May, though I know he might have forgotten about it.  
  
 _Wait, what’s today?_  I wonder. It takes me a few seconds to remember: Today is April 22. Kellin’s birthday is in two days. (He claims that he doesn’t like getting things, but I can tell it makes his day that I always ignore him and give him something anyways.)  
  
While I’m waiting in the car after school, part of me doesn’t expect Kellin to ever show up. That part of me expects to get a call from someone at any moment saying he’s been found dead. But to my relief, he soon hops into the passenger seat. We act as though nothing happened earlier and share a surprisingly comfortable silence until we get home. “It’s strange to not have to drop you off at your house,” I say.  
  
"You will soon," he replies. "I think we might be leaving tomorrow. If not, then probably Wednesday. We didn’t even bring anything. We’ve just been borrowing your clothes and spare toothbrushes and shit."  
  
"That’s okay," I say, climbing out. "You were in a rush."  
  
We don’t continue the conversation until we’re upstairs in my room. “It’s gonna be a lot different when we go back,” Kellin says. “It’s really weird to think about.”  
  
I sit down in the spinning chair next to my desk. “What, that your dad won’t be there anymore?”  
  
He nods. “Yeah. He was like…he ruled the house. Even when he was drunk. And Mom and I were his servants. We waited on him when he was too wasted to help himself…and we were his punching bags.”  
  
I don’t say anything for a moment. Then I ask, “How long?”  
  
He narrows his eyes and sits on the bed. “How long what?”  
  
"How long…has this been going on?" I almost don’t want to hear the answer.  
  
He taps his fingers. “Uh…well, he hit me sometimes before this, but it didn’t really start until I was…nine, I think.”  
  
Nine. Nine years old. “Are you serious?”  
  
"Yeah, why?"  
  
"Holy shit." I shake my head. "Nine? Fucking  _nine_? You were just a little kid!”  
  
Suddenly I remember something that happened when I was around that age. One day at school, Kellin came in with a bruise on his left arm, and I asked where it was from. He started crying and told me that his dad had given it to him, and our teacher overheard. She called Kellin’s house and talked to his dad, who insisted that Kellin had fallen while they were playing a game and that he was just making up stories. Our teacher let it off the hook—I don’t think it helped that he actually did make up a lot of stories around that time—but for the rest of third grade, she watched him more closely.  
  
"Maybe it doesn’t matter," Kellin says. "Maybe it’s too late and I’m already turning into him."  
  
"No." I stand up. "Don’t say that."  
  
"Come on, I already steal Dad’s liquor on a nearly daily basis."  
  
"You do?" Does he drink even more often than I thought he did?  
  
"Yeah. Part of the reason why I got it for him sometimes, when he didn’t make Mom do it. I like it too much. I hit you, too, Vic, and I wasn’t even drunk."  
  
I close my eyes and lie down next to him. As much as I hate to admit it, I still can’t get that image—of him lashing out, of the horrified expression on his face afterwards—out of my head. “You need to stop thinking about that,” I tell him. “That was one moment. One moment where your emotions got the best of you.”  
  
"Yeah, and they almost did again today."  
  
"Stop it," I say, sitting up and opening my eyes. "Stop thinking like that. Please. I know it’s hard, but…please. It’s not May yet. You promised me."  
  
"And you promised me that you’d never bring up September," he points out, but I know I’ve got him. He knows how important that pact is to both of us.  
  
For a few seconds, we’re both silent. Then I take a deep breath and move on to the thing that I really want to talk about. “Kellin, we’ve got to fix this.”  
  
"Fix what?" he says, but I think he already has an idea.  
  
"Us." I gesture to him and then myself. "All of a sudden we can’t stop fighting. We run away from each other. We act like we’re still okay, but we’re really not. And now I’m hearing that you fucked some senior in a closet."  
  
"That sick bastard," he mutters.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Jaime," he says. "He set us up. Me and Oli. Put us in a closet, knocked us out, made it look like I was cheating. I swear we never did that, Vic. I swear."  
  
I can tell just by the way he says it that he’s telling the truth, and I can’t help the feeling of relief that comes over me.  _You bastard,_  my conscience whispers.  _What right do you have to be worried whether or not he’s cheating? You do it so easily._  
  
 _Shut up,_  I think to it. Out loud I say, “Something tells me some people aren’t going to stop until we’re broken up. But I won’t let that happen.”  
  
"Maybe they’re right," Kellin says quietly. "You said it yourself, Vic. We’re falling apart."  
  
"No!" I snap, a bit too harsh-sounding. "After all this time, Kellin, after all these years…are you really going to just give up so easily?"  
  
His eyes meet mine. “There’s a difference between giving up and letting go.”  
  
I’m struck by how true it is. In this case, though, letting go isn’t much better. “Well, I’m not letting you do either of those things. Maybe we  _are_  falling apart, and maybe it was always going to happen…but we can put it back together again.”  
  
He seems absolutely convinced otherwise. “Things don’t always work out.”  
  
"I know they don’t. But that doesn’t mean nothing works out."  
  
He stands up, and I do, too, feeling the too-familiar rise of panic. “Wait, it’s not what you think,” Kellin says quickly. “I’m not gonna do it. Okay? I’m just…leaving.”  
  
I grab his arm, remembering how similar the scene was two days ago. “For the last time,  _no_. I’m not losing you.”  
  
"I’ll still be alive," he replies softly, but we both know what I meant. "Look, this hurts me, too. Hurts like hell. But it would be better for you if I just—"  
  
"Better for  _me_?” I repeat, sounding almost hysterical. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t really care what’s  _better_  for me.”  
  
He blinks a few times, and that’s when I realize he’s trying to fight back tears. It really does hurt him. “Vic, I’m sorry, but you’re making this so much harder. I don’t want to leave, but it’s just gonna cause more problems if I stay.”  
  
"I don’t care how many problems you cause. You want to stay; I know you do. And I want you to stay. So stay. Please."  
  
He hesitates. A tear rolls down his cheek, and he brushes it away almost angrily. “Damn it.” He steps forward and wraps his arms around me, burying his face into my chest. “I  _do_  want to stay. So fucking badly.”  
  
After no more than a minute, he lifts his head back up and stares at me with something new in his gaze. We make an unspoken agreement with our eyes, and I pull him close and kiss him.  
  
He pushes me against the wall like in the movies, kissing back with a passion I’d almost forgotten about, and as our lips lock, I know he’s here to stay. He slides his tongue smoothly into my mouth, taking control in a startling motion I’m not used to. I battle for dominance with my own tongue, so Kellin focuses more on the skin beneath my clothes. He nearly rips my shirt trying to get it off of me; suddenly we need skin-to-skin contact, and we can’t get it fast enough. Now that he’s distracted, I push him back, and he falls onto the bed. I land on top of him, grinning in triumph as I bite at his neck.  
  
The victory doesn’t last long, though, because then he flips us both over and climbs on top of my lap. I push us both up, getting into a sitting position, and he wraps both his legs around me. “Whoa,” I say, the breathiness in my voice betraying how turned on I am. “Where’d all this come from?”  
  
He pulls off his shirt. “I figured we could change it up a little bit. You know, if you wanted to.”  
  
I lean close and whisper in his ear, “You’ll have to fight me for it.”  
  
With that, he pushes his front roughly against mine, kissing my neck and deciding that it’s his turn to give me a hickey. He grabs my hips, but I knock his hands away and shove him backward. Before he can regain control, I climb on top of him again, reclaiming my rightful place. We are now completely turned the wrong way—our feet are at the headboard.  
  
Kellin kisses me again, and I sigh softly into his mouth. He takes this opportunity to reenter mine with the same effortlessness he used the first time. Again, I try to fend off his tongue with my own, but eventually I set my sights on a lower area and pull both his pants and his boxer briefs off of him.  
  
"See? This is what happens when you try to steal my place," I tease, breaking the kiss.  
  
"What, I win? If that’s what happens, I should try it more often." Unexpectedly, he jerks us both upward, sliding out from under me and pinning me to the bed, still facing the other way. His hard shaft hovers over my jeans, just waiting.  
  
"Fine," I say finally, sliding the rest of my clothes off and nodding towards my own shaft. "But you’ve gotta do this first."  
  
He lowers his head and kisses the tip, gradually moving up and down, his lips brushing against my member just enough to make me go crazy.  
  
"Stop it," I groan, throwing my head back and causing Kellin to laugh knowingly. "I’m not going to let you top me if you keep doing that."  
  
He snorts and proceeds to give me a little more, swirling his tongue around but still refusing to do what we both know he can do. Now I remember why I never let him dominate—teasing me is his favorite activity.  
  
Finally, I pull him by his hair a bit roughly and force myself farther into his mouth. I moan loudly, feeling my cock hit the back of his throat as he practically swallows me. He lets his tongue roam all over it now, taking ahold of my hips again and bobbing his head quickly up and down. I can feel my dick throbbing; Kellin doesn’t blow me often, but he knows what he’s doing.  
  
With no warning, he stops all the action and completely removes my erection from his mouth, a teasing spark in his eyes. “Damn you,” I gasp, turning myself over. “Okay. You win. Fuck me all you want.” I make it sound like I’m mad, but we both know I’m just as excited as he is.  
  
In the background, there’s some shuffling and rattling. “I will if I can find the goddamn lube,” Kellin mutters.  
  
I kind of know what to expect, but at the same time I kind of don’t. I’ve only been on the bottom twice in my life. The first time was mine and Kellin’s little experiment, and the second time was…with Jaime.  
  
"Eureka!" Kellin proclaims, preventing my thoughts from going any deeper as I hear him lubing himself up. Part of me wants to keep fighting him for the right to dominate, but the other, larger part decides to finally give it up and let him take the lead for once.  
  
"Okay," he says, and sticks one finger inside of me. I gasp a little, still not used to this feeling. My body slowly relaxes, so he adds a second finger. I bite my tongue, arching my back slightly, and when he slides a third finger in, I let a moan escape.  
  
He moves all three fingers around to make room, and I buck my hips up, hoping he’ll take the hint. It’s new, but I’m ready, and I want all of him inside me.  
  
"Let’s see how this goes," Kellin whispers as he finishes the prepping. The tip of his dick rests right at my opening, torturing me, and he laughs again because he can tell.  
  
Finally, he pushes all the way in, stopping when I cry out in pleasure—he mistakes it for pain. “No,” I rasp. “Keep going.”  
  
After the initial penetration, I reach up and grab his hips to guide him, but he takes both my hands away and pins them to the bed on both sides of me, linking my fingers with his. “Your dominant side is coming out,” he sings, losing his original roughness as he gently rocks his hips with mine. I don’t have time to adjust to this slow speed, though, because he thrusts faster, sensing my impatience.  
  
Determined to have some control, I try to thrust my hips back at him, but without warning, he pushes against my prostate, making us both scream. I lose what little control I had as he keeps pushing into it over and over. I can hear his breath close to my ear, both of us gasping irregularly and trying to hold back the urge to cry out again and again.  
  
He squeezes my hands tighter the closer he gets, releasing one from his death grip and stroking my cock with the spare hand as he moves even faster yet. I can feel the euphoria rising up in my entire body, and I open my mouth to let it all out.  
  
“ _Fuck_!” I yell, streams of white jetting out of me. Kellin comes right after, our hands clenched so tight I wonder if I’m going to break my wrist. His scream is high and a bit girly, and I smile to myself at the sound.  
  
I can still feel his warm body connected with mine, but now we’re just lying beside each other under the covers. I turn so we’re face-to-face and just stare at him drowsily. His eyes are lightly closed, but I know he’s not sleeping. He’s listening to me breathe, like I am to him. I kiss him on the lips, so soft he may not even have felt it, and he opens his eyes, staring at me like this isn’t anything big.  
  
But it  _is_  big. We both know it. Our relationship almost went down in flames, but we’re saving it. The last time we had sex, I promised myself I would never cheat again. I threw that promise out the window, but this time…this time I won’t. I know I won’t.  
  
"I love you," I whisper. It doesn’t require any thinking. I say it like it’s a fact.  
  
Kellin smiles. It’s a real smile, one that shows all his teeth and fits perfectly on his face. It’s a smile that happens whenever he finds something hilarious and laughs like nothing can hurt him. It’s a smile that I used to see so often, but that recently has seemed to disappear.  
  
It’s a smile I’ve missed.  
  
He buries his face into my chest again, but he’s not crying this time.


	17. Listening

**Chapter 17 - Kellin**  
  
Right before second period, I find myself trapped in a closet. Again.  
  
Ian wastes no time with threats or insults. He smacks me across the face with no hesitation, stunning me for a few seconds.  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what was that for?" I ask, holding my hands up. He’s not normally this random, especially when he’s as pissed as he is right now. I didn’t do anything to him, so what’s his reasoning today?  
  
"That was for Vic." He swings at me again, but I duck this time.  
  
"For  _Vic_?” I repeat in disbelief. “Last I checked, you didn’t even like him.”  
  
"I don’t. But you? I can’t believe I ever liked you."  
  
I back away, out of his reach. “What did I do?” But it becomes clear as soon as the words leave my mouth. It’s freshman year all over again.  
  
"Well, it seems you and that senior kid fucked in a closet."  
  
With that, I snap. “Keyword there, Ian: seems. It  _seems_  that we fucked in a closet. But guess what? We didn’t. I see what you’re doing, and I admit, it’s actually kind of noble. You’re getting me for Vic, because supposedly I cheated again. But have you ever heard the phrase ‘Innocent until proven guilty’? I think you have a habit of switching it around. Guilty until proven innocent. Well, newsflash: I’m innocent.”  
  
He tilts his head. He’s never heard me deny the claims everyone has made about me cheating. I guess at this point, he just assumed it was true.  
  
"And not just about the closet shit. I never cheated on you, either, Ian. There’s this thing called a  _rumor_. Was it just that you didn’t trust me? Were you just so pessimistic that it seemed more likely that I was cheating?”  
  
"Well, here’s  _my_  question,” he interrupts. “Why did you wait until now to say you’re innocent? Why not set me straight two years ago?”  
  
"You never fucking gave me a chance, that’s why," I spit back. "Just started beating the shit out of me, out of nowhere. And even though I had no idea what the hell you were talking about, I could tell your mind was made up. You were convinced, Ian, that I was off with some secret boyfriend, and it drove you crazy. You want me to believe you never cared about me? I mean, maybe you don’t now, but I know you did then. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have let me affect you. But you did, and now here you are, still stuck on something that didn’t even happen. All because you didn’t think to stop and talk to me about it. I would’ve been honest, Ian. That’s all you had to say. I’m being honest right now."  
  
That leaves him speechless for a few moments. “Damn,” he mutters. “If you’re lying, you’re a fucking good actor.”  
  
I sigh. “Okay. I get it. You don’t trust me. I know. You’ve built up so much hate these past two years. You know, along with your football player body. Can you even remember before that, when you were this scrawny geek and you were dating someone who matched your ‘perpetual weirdness’, as you put it? Remember that?”  
  
It almost hurts to look at his facial expression, because it lets me know that he  _does_ remember. He remembers, and even though he may deny it, I think he misses it. He misses  _me_ …even though he hates me.  
  
"See, it’s still there. Ian, we’ve been having this feud for far too long. You’ve made me feel like shit these past two years, but if you’ll believe me right now, if you’ll let go of what you thought you knew about me…I won’t hold a grudge. We can stop this whole thing and get on with our lives."  
  
He stares at me as though he’s actually seriously considering it. “One more question,” he says slowly. “How do you explain the closet? What were you and that kid even doing in there that involved getting naked?”  
  
"It’s called being sabotaged," I reply, "for this exact reaction. This is what Jaime hoped for when he shoved us in there, knocked us out, took off our clothes. Except I think he expected Vic to be the one to do this, not you."  
  
He raises an eyebrow. “Jaime? Is he a junior? I think I know him.”  
  
I nod. “He wants Vic. And he wants  _me_  out of the way. He’s made that very clear.”  
  
"So he sabotaged you and made it look like you were cheating," Ian finishes, looking a bit skeptical.  
  
"Yep. He’s trying to break us up. Just like the kids who first started that bullshit rumor that I was cheating on you. They wanted to mess with us, they wanted to break us up…and they did. I’m not letting that happen again."  
  
He keeps staring at me for a few more moments, and then he says the last thing I expected him to say: “I’m helping you.”  
  
Did I hear him wrong? “You’re  _what_?”  
  
"I want to make it up to you. I mean, I know I can’t, but I can sure as hell try. Like you said, some asshole kids already fucked with one relationship. All this time, I’ve tried to be noble. I thought that I was. I thought that you were scum and that I was giving you what you deserved. But I guess you aren’t, are you? I admit it—I tend to assume the worst. I guess it just sort of stuck in my head like it was a fact and I completely forgot that it might not be true. So if this Jaime guy is fucking with you and Vic like those kids fucked with me…I don’t want anyone else to end up like us. So I’m gonna help you with Jaime."  
  
For the first time since our rivalry started, I see us for what we are. We’re not enemies. We’re just two exes with a lack of communication skills who have managed to fuck up their relationship. If there’s one thing we have in common, it’s this: We don’t want to see the same mistakes being made.  
  
So I say, “Okay. You can help me, though I don’t know what you’ll be helping me with. I just don’t want Jaime messing with us again.”  
  
"Then we’ll make him stop."  
  
"How? Beating someone up doesn’t exactly solve the problem. And it especially wouldn’t stop Jaime."  
  
But as I think about the closet stunt he pulled, it hits me: We weren’t just in any closet.  
  
"I’ve got an idea," I say.  
  
—  
  
We walk through the empty halls—second period has already started—and I know that if there were other people around us, they’d all be staring. When Ian and I are near each other, we’re in opposite directions, either walking past each other or facing each other. But right now we’re walking side by side, as allies. I can’t help but think about how the last time we walked like this, back when we were dating, Ian was my height. Now he towers above me.  
  
"You’re sure it was this one?" he asks as we stand in front of the closet Oli and I were found in.  
  
"I’m sure. I know my closets. And I’ve been in this one the most." I open the door and turn on the light.  
  
He heads in after me and stands in the middle, taking a moment to stare. “I’ve never actually been in this one. I’ve heard of it, of course, but I’ve never been in it. How’d you know about this? I thought only the seniors knew. And isn’t the camcorder hidden?”  
  
It’s true—Jaime made the mistake of using the closet with the camcorder in it for his sabotage. He didn’t know, though—like Ian said, only the seniors know. Except for Vic and I.  
  
"Oli told me about it. Though I probably would’ve found the camcorder anyways, since I hide in here so much." I step over various items to get to the back, where the camcorder lies.  
  
Ian looks like he wants to ask why I do these weird things like hide in closets sometimes, but then he just says, “You sure this’ll work? How do you know it was even recording?”  
  
"It’s always recording." I pull the camcorder out of its corner and point it around the room, which is reflected in the screen. "Yep, it’s on."  
  
"How does it stay on? Doesn’t it need batteries or something?"  
  
"Yeah. Apparently the kid who put it in here keeps an eye on it and changes the batteries a lot. He doesn’t really use it anymore, I don’t think. I think he just kind of leaves it here and lets other people use it. Like right now."  
  
He stares into the camera lens and makes a weird face. The sight almost causes me to fall over, because for one second, he looks exactly like he did two years ago.  
  
And I miss him.  
  
I don’t miss him like I want to get back together with him. I don’t miss him like I’d choose him over Vic—even now, even if everything went back to the way it was, I wouldn’t. I miss him like I’d miss a dead friend, because I know that though we might be trying to fix things now, we can’t change what has happened. Ian is not the same person I fell both in and out of love with. That person is buried, for better or for worse.  
  
So I take the camcorder from his hands and say, “Let’s see what our little friend has found.”  
  
He walks out of the closet and returns a few minutes later with his laptop. “I keep it in my locker sometimes,” he explains. “You’re lucky today was one of those days.”  
  
One thing I remember about Ian is that he’s practically a technical genius. I think he’s tried to hide that side of him since he became more popular, but I know it’s still there. Within a short amount of time, Ian has hooked the camcorder up to his laptop, and several minutes later, he says, “I think I found the stuff from yesterday.”  
  
I look over his shoulder and find that, sure enough, I’m staring at us, me and Oli, standing up as we get dressed. Ian rewinds it a bit to show a dark room turning bright as Jaime shoves someone in. That someone is me. Ian turns to me in awe, amazed that I wasn’t lying.  
  
"Ah, the power of the Internet," he says. "I’ll cut the other stuff out so it only shows this part. Once I tell people about it and it goes viral, we’re looking at an absolute shutdown for Jaime. These kids might be fooled easily when it comes to rumors—including me—but they don’t like it when they figure it out."  
  
He speaks like a professional. There isn’t any sort of undertone to his voice that would suggest any emotion. Maybe he’s been getting over me for a while now; he just didn’t realize it. All the bullying and picking fights with me became more of a habit than something he did consciously. It was just part of the routine, and now the truth has fucked up that routine.  
  
"Okay, I think I’ve got it from here," he says. "You can go back to class or something, if you want."  
  
I stand up. “Don’t need my help anymore?”  
  
"Nope. From here on out, it’s pretty much sealed. Oh, and another thing—you don’t have to worry about being almost naked all over the Internet. The camcorder was high up enough that it didn’t catch most of you, until the end, when you stood up. Plus, like I said, I’ll be cutting most of it out anyways."  
  
"I…okay. Thanks." I make for the door. "You sure you’re not gonna do something to the video? Turn it around to humiliate me instead?"  
  
He shakes his head. “No. You’re not the bad guy here. You never were.”  
  
I nod and open the door, thinking about how quickly Ian jumped at the chance to help me.  _Is it really that simple?_  I wonder.  _Can a few words really do that much?_  
  
And then I realize that a few words can make or break a person. A few words can persuade you to do something you never dreamed you’d do. A few words can save someone’s life. And a few lying whispers can burn an entire bridge down.  
  
—  
  
Mom and I leave Vic’s house right after school. Vic hugs me before we walk out the door even though we’ll see each other tomorrow. He tells me to stay safe and meets my eyes; the words are weighted with everything we both know but don’t say. I promise him that I will, and only then does he let me go.  
  
Our house without Dad in it is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. His shit is still lying everywhere, but it all seems so empty now, like something’s missing. The smell of alcohol is permanently in the air, a fact I try to ignore. I bet I used to smell like it, too. I don’t think Mom and I know what to do now. We spent so much time taking care of him and hiding him and hiding  _from_  him that now that he’s gone, we’re trying to figure out how to be a family without the person that took up our whole lives.  
  
"I’m…going up to my room," I say slowly, aware of how rude it probably is.  
  
Mom nods. “Okay…but I hope you’ll come down more often.”  
  
"I will." I turn around and trudge up the stairs. I don’t remember the last time I didn’t skip a few of them because I was in such a hurry to get away. I don’t have to run anymore.  
  
When I get to my room, I reach into the back of one of my dresser drawers and pull out some liquor I stole from Dad.  _I’ll only have a little,_  I think, but for once I can’t convince myself of that.  
  
Then I call Oli. “Oli, hey,” I say. “Listen, I think you should come over and celebrate with me.”  
  
"Celebrate? Why?"  
  
"Dad’s gone."  
  
There’s a loud clattering sound—I think he dropped the phone. I can hear him picking it back up. “He’s gone? What happened? Where did he go?”  
  
"Things got a little…out of hand. So, uh, Vic’s Mom called some people, I guess, and now he’s apparently in rehab for his addiction."  
  
"Holy shit. This is fucking great! I’m coming over." He hangs up.  
  
By the time Oli arrives, the liquor has given me the ability to share his excitement. I offer him some, and soon we’re both drinking and elated. I keep expecting Mom to burst in and find us, but she might be sleeping. She sleeps a lot when she isn’t working.  
  
"Hey," Oli says with a lopsided grin. "This calls for a celebratory kiss."  
  
He’s already wasted, and we both know that if he were sober he wouldn’t be saying that. And we also both know that if I wasn’t wasted, I’d be listening to my every instinct screaming,  _No! You fucking idiot! Just when everything was going to be okay!_  
  
But I am wasted. So instead I think,  _One more time. No one will know._  
  
And I grin right back at him and tell him, “You’re right.”


	18. No Different

**Chapter 18 - Vic**  
  
Maybe I’m hallucinating.  
  
Maybe I’m not thinking straight, too afraid of what Kellin might do to himself now that I’m not constantly around. I wonder if stress can cause hallucinations.  
  
I hope so, because right now I’m standing in Kellin’s yard, staring up at his open bedroom window. I see him kissing someone, but maybe that’s not right. I hope that’s not right.  
  
Then I think,  _Who am I kidding?_  It brings me back to reality. I know that what I’m seeing is real. He’s with Oli, and they’re making out behind my back. Maybe they really were having sex yesterday, too.  
  
I can’t stop watching them, but soon I tear my gaze away. I run around the front of the house and drop his sweatshirt at the front door. That was the main reason I came back—he’d left it at my house. Well, it was really more of an excuse to see him. I wanted to see him—but not like this.  
  
It was the same way back in September. I took every chance I could to see him, to make sure he was still alive. And right now, he is very, very alive.  
  
I jump into the car and pull out, trying to ignore the voice in the back of my mind that says,  _That’s what you get. That’s what you get. That’s exactly what you deserve._  
  
I drive home with that thought still in my head. I slam the front door and make my way up the stairs. “Vic. What’s wrong?” Mom asks, but I don’t answer her. I just escape to my room and lock myself in.  
  
He’s cheating. Kellin’s cheating. Almost anyone at school would say “I told you so”, but I know him. He doesn’t just do that. He can’t just do that. He has to have a reason, and I’m guessing that reason is me.  
  
I lie down and just stare. I thought it was over. I thought we were fixed. Why now? Just when everything was starting to slow down, why now?  
  
—  
  
He tries to speak to me like everything’s okay, and I try my best to act like it is, but I know he can tell that I’m not completely sincere. The ride to school is awkward at best, but I don’t want to talk to him about Oli yet. That’ll be later.  
  
There are some days where you can just tell that something happened. It’s like you can actually smell the gossip in the air or some shit. Today is one of those days. As soon as I walk in, I see people talking and crowding around their laptops to see something. Kellin glances at me and gives me a sly smile, like we’re both in on some secret. Ian passes us and nods at him, giving him the same look and gesturing to the students around us. Kellin nods back before turning down the hallway opposite of the one I’m going down.  
  
 _What the hell was that about?_  I wonder as I head to my locker.  _Since when are they friends, or even allies?_  
  
Someone rushes up to me—one of the girls I talked to yesterday. “Vic! Did you see?”  
  
Startled, I take a few steps back. “See what?”  
  
Another girl comes over with a laptop. “It was sabotage. Kellin and that senior guy. Look.”  
  
I try not to laugh at the fact that nobody knows who Oli is and lean over to see what she’s looking at. It’s a video, and though everything is dark at first, soon a light flicks on and someone shoves Kellin inside. Before the door closes, I catch a glimpse of unmistakable hair. Everyone knows who it is.  
  
The girl pauses the video. “I don’t know why Jaime would have something against you two, but…we kind of thought you’d want to know.”  
  
I nod to both of them. “Thanks. Honestly. That…really helped clear some things up.”  
  
They nod back and return to their lockers, and in a daze, I turn to mine.  
  
So Kellin didn’t lie about the closet. I should’ve known—this is exactly something that Jaime would come up with. Plus, Kellin’s reckless, but he wouldn’t be so reckless that he’d have sex with anybody during school. He would’ve known it wouldn’t turn out well.  
  
But that doesn’t change what I saw, does it? That’s the real question, and the answer is no. I didn’t cheat with Jaime when Ian said I did, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t cheat. And Kellin cheated.  
  
 _We’re terrible,_  I realize as first period begins.  _Both of us. No wonder we’re falling apart. We can’t keep our hands off of other people._  
  
During lunch, I ask Kellin, “Since when are you and Ian friends again?”  
  
He shakes his head. “Not friends. I’d call us…temporary allies against a common enemy.”  
  
"And what would that common enemy be?"  
  
"Jaime." He smiles at my shocked expression. "Did you see that video? We put that up. Exposed him."  
  
Well, they certainly did a good job of it. “Why would Ian even want to help you?”  
  
"Let’s just say I made him realize that I’m not the bad guy here. We’re never gonna be as close as we were, but I don’t think we’ll still be trying to kill each other, either."  
  
"Well…that’s good. But do you think this is gonna faze Jaime at all?"  
  
He shrugs. “Maybe not permanently, but at least for a while. I think he’s just kind of been trying to ignore everyone today. But even if he does try something again, people will probably suspect it without us having to do anything. They won’t be fooled, and neither will we.”  
  
I reach for his hand under the table, hesitant for the first time in a long time. “So is it over now? Absolutely over? For real this time?”  
  
Kellin meets my eyes. “I am going to promise you right now,” he says deliberately, “that it’s finally really over. And I will do everything I can to keep that fucking promise.”  
  
It’s a conversation I feel like we’ve been having too often, and I’m afraid that even though we say it’s the last time, it won’t be. Something else will happen, and once again, this will mean nothing.  
  
I break away from his gaze when someone slams their hands on the table. Standing on the other side is Jaime, leaning forward. “Hey. I want to see you after school.” He flashes me a smile that hopes I haven’t seen the video before quickly walking away.  
  
I turn to Kellin and shake my head. “I’m not gonna see him after school.”  
  
Jaime doesn’t seem to understand that, though. While I wait in the car, he hops into the passenger seat like he’s supposed to be there. He’s not. Kellin is. That’s how it should’ve been all those other times.  
  
"Hey," he says, as if nothing is going on. He’s not dumb—he has to know that there’s a very small chance I’m still out of the loop. I’m not.  
  
"Hey," I reply shortly. "How long will this take?" Maybe it’s rude, but I’ve had enough. I don’t want anything to do with him anymore, and I need to make that clear.  
  
He shrugs, acting oblivious. “It can take as long as you want it to.”  
  
"Okay, good." I turn completely so I can look him dead in the eye. "I want you out of this car as soon as possible. I’m seeing Kellin after school, and he’ll be here any minute. Got that?"  
  
Jaime raises his eyebrows, but he doesn’t seem at all surprised. Of course he knew I’d turn him down. After everything, I don’t like to think that someone would still expect me to continue doing what I’ve been doing. And if anyone ever did expect that, what would that say about me? That I don’t care what happens between my boyfriend and I? Because I do.  
  
"Well…I’ll see you later, then," he says as he climbs out of the car, but I think we both know that’s a lie. Aside from school, we’ll never be seeing each other again. He knows he fucked up. He knows that turning this whole thing into a war was a bad idea. He knows he lost.  
  
Only a few seconds later, the door to the passenger seat opens again, but this time, it’s Kellin, rightfully taking his place next to me. “Well, I think that’s the last we’ll be seeing of Jaime,” I say, pointing outside as I pull away from the school.  
  
"So I guess you’re…what? Nailing the lid on the coffin?"  
  
I nod. “For the most part.” Softly, I take his hand again. The comforting feel of his fingers wrapped with mine automatically relaxes me. We drive home like this, and it makes me think back to a year ago. Things weren’t always simple then, either, but at least we could count on a simple relationship. I just hope we can get back to that. He might think it’s over, but it isn’t. Not yet. Not until I get an explanation for what I saw.  
  
"You can come over," Kellin says slowly when we arrive at his house. "I mean…the problem’s gone. You know, if your parents—if your mom doesn’t care." I turn to face him, surprised at the correction, and he grimaces a little. "Sorry."  
  
"No." I turn the car off and hop out. "Don’t be."  
  
I follow him to the front door, and as soon as we step inside, we’re bombarded by the smell of cleaning detergents. It’s nothing new or exciting in my opinion, but Kellin turns to me and smiles like it’s the greatest scent in the world. “It doesn’t smell like alcohol!” he whispers. “And it’s so much cleaner.” He sweeps his foot around the living room. “And there are no more broken bottles lying everywhere.”  
  
"Hey, Kellin." His mother pops in from the dining room. "Pretty nice, huh? I had a day off today, so I figured it was, you know, way overdue for a full cleaning.” She waves at me. “Hi, Vic. Are you staying for a little while?”  
  
"I think so, yeah," I say, exchanging a startled glance with Kellin. She sounds so casual, so… _not_  stressed.  
  
"We’re gonna, uh, go upstairs," Kellin says, heading up the stairs and motioning for me to come with him. I don’t think he knows how to respond to her normalcy, and I’m not too sure, either.  
  
When we reach the door to his bedroom, he stops abruptly in front of me. “Fuck.”  
  
I try to see over his shoulder. “What?”  
  
Kellin walks into the room, and when I step in after him, I figure out what he’s looking at. “She cleaned the whole house,” he says, standing in shock in the middle of a clean bedroom.  
  
"Why is that a bad thing?" I ask.  
  
He closes the door behind us and then starts digging through a dresser drawer. I can hear a bit of rattling and Kellin counting to himself before he closes it. “Okay. Good. She didn’t find it.”  
  
I sit down on his bed. “Find what?”  
  
He reopens the drawer and pulls out a bottle of liquor. “My, uh, stash.”  
  
I’m about to point out that she could’ve found it and just not messed with it, but I don’t because I don’t want to get him worked up. Instead I waste no more time delaying what I’ve been meaning to say. “You and Oli kissed yesterday.”  
  
His hand jerks a little, almost dropping the bottle, so he turns and puts it back, pretending to reorganize his stash of liquor. “I saw you,” I add. “So don’t try to deny it.”  
  
He closes the drawer and turns to me. Sighing, he says, “It was the last time.”  
  
I stand up, suddenly angry. “ _The last time_? So does that mean there were others?”  
  
Kellin looks away. “A couple.”  
  
I just stare at him for a few seconds. “How long has this gone on?”  
  
He shrugs, still not looking at me. “Not long.”  
  
I grab him by the shirt and force him to meet my eyes. “Kellin. We said this was over. We both agreed that it was over. Several times. And then you turned around and—”  
  
"I was drunk, Vic," he interrupts. "We both were. Two out of three times, we were drunk. Were you drunk? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I kind of don’t think so."  
  
"That doesn’t automatically make it okay. Plus, there was one time where you weren’t drunk.  _You_ , in your sober mind, consciously made that choice.”  
  
"You’re a hypocrite, Vic. I made that choice after I saw you and Jaime making out in your car, and maybe it was a stupid choice, but I’m not the bad guy here. At least, not the only one."  
  
After a few moments of silence, I say, “I just want to know why.”  
  
He smiles sheepishly. “For the same reason you and Jaime fucked the other day. I don’t know if it was the original reason, but I do know that that time, it was to forget about me. And that’s why I ran to Oli: I wanted to forget about you. I wanted to convince myself it wasn’t real.”  
  
I shake my head. “Ignoring something doesn’t make it go away, Kellin. And what the hell made you think that making out with someone else behind my back was going to fix anything?”  
  
"Maybe I didn’t think at all, Vic!" Kellin snaps. "What’s  _your_  excuse? And who are you to talk to me about ignoring a problem? Face it. We’re no different.”  
  
“ _My_  excuse?” I repeat, trying to figure out what to reply to first. “I don’t have an excuse. I was stupid. I’m not gonna pretend Jaime and I never did what we did. And I’m not ignoring any sort of problem, either.”  
  
He snorts. “Okay, for one thing, I’m not pretending Oli and I never did anything, either. Yeah, those were some pretty shitty excuses, I’ll admit, but I’m not gonna act like nothing ever happened. And for another thing, like I just said, you ran to Jaime to ignore me, a problem. To forget about me. Oh, and a third thing…let’s talk Daddy Dearest, Vic.”  
  
It hits me like a punch in the face. Ignoring everything he just said except his last sentence, I play dumb. “What does your dad have to do with this?”  
  
"Come on. We both know it’s your dad I’m talking about."  
  
I glance away. “Well, what does  _my_  dad have to do with this?”  
  
"Have you even thought about him since he died? We both have our little secrets, but I’m dealing with mine. I know I tried to kill myself. I’ve accepted that. You just distract yourself. You think I haven’t noticed? You’re always distracting yourself. I think I tried to talk to you about him once, and that was right after he died. You acted like you didn’t even hear me.”  
  
"What does this have to do with what we’re arguing about?" I ask before one more word can come out of his mouth. I don’t want to have to face what he’s saying.  
  
He shrugs. “Truthfully, that’s just something I had to get out there. You want to talk about that later? Okay, we’ll do that. Right now, though, I’d like to know your reasoning. You cheated first, Vic. That was when things between us were good. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but you didn’t really have a problem to ignore. So…why?” He sounds so calm and collected until that final word, when his voice breaks a little.  
  
"I already told you. I was stupid." But I know that doesn’t cut it. "Fine. I had a crush on him, okay? I ignored it until he made his move. And then I thought just one kiss wouldn’t matter. I thought it wouldn’t happen again. The very first time was desire, Kellin, and after that…well, you were right about the rest. Those were all distractions."  
  
"Desire," he repeats. He sounds almost betrayed. "Wasn’t I enough? Was it too much to save some desire for me?"  
  
"Don’t turn this around on me. You said it yourself; you’re no different."  
  
"I know. The only reason I’m turning it around on you is because you’re the one who started it. I wouldn’t have done anything with Oli if you’d kept away from Jaime. I wouldn’t have wanted to forget you."  
  
"You could’ve just  _said_  something, you know!” I yell, louder than I expected. “We could’ve sorted it out right then and there. I mean, if you wanted honesty…that’s all you had to say.”  
  
He shakes his head. “I didn’t want honesty. And that was my mistake. I wanted to forget. I wanted to forget  _you_. But you caused that.”  
  
"I’m not letting you blame me for everything. You fucked up, too."  
  
"Question. How long would your affair with Jaime have gone on if you hadn’t seen me with Oli?"  
  
"It wouldn’t have gone on," I say.  
  
"Yeah, and I’m sure that’s what you told yourself every time. What if you and I had broken up? How long before you give in? It doesn’t matter if you hate him. Sex doesn’t always equal love, and even if we didn’t break up, he wouldn’t stop that easily. Eventually…would that desire strike again, Vic?"  
  
I don’t see this side of him often. It’s the side that lets anger take over and turns his mouth into a loaded gun. “I don’t know, Kellin,” I say. “I really don’t know. And that’s the most honest I can be.”  
  
"Well, guess what? I’m glad I did it. I’m glad you saw." He smiles, and I’m not sure if it’s supposed to be genuine or a smirk. "For once, I’m not sorry at all."  
  
That’s what finally gets me. In a split second, my mouth is a gun, too, and I can’t stop firing. “You know what, Kellin? I  _am_  sorry. I’ve been sorry ever since Jaime and I started that stupid fucking affair. I regret every moment of it, and I know the only reason you don’t regret yours is because you think you stopped me from doing something that I, right now, would never dream of doing again anyways. But that’s sick, that you’re not sorry for cheating because you think you got me back. You already had me. And I know I fucked up, too; I know my slate’s anything but clean. But if you’d do it all over again, then I don’t care what it’s for. I wouldn’t care if you were dead.”  
  
Kellin’s expression has completely changed. He stares at me, through me, his gaze unwavering. His jaw clenches, but I can tell that the last thing he’s about to do is cry. His eyes have hardened.  _He_  has hardened.  
  
At the sight of him, all I want to do is grab those words from where they float in the air and press down on us. I want to grab them, shove them back into my mouth, and never let them see the light of day again. But I can’t do that.  
  
"Fine," Kellin says, his voice cold and dismissive. "I mean, I guess I always knew that, in the back of my mind. I was just kind of waiting for you to say it."  
  
He turns around and walks quickly out of the room. “You have to come back, you know,” I call hesitantly, following him. “I mean, it’s your house.”  
  
If he hears me, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He just slides down the stairs and walks right out the door. By the time I get to the front porch, he has already started the car. “Kellin!” I yell as he backs out of the driveway. I run after him and grab onto the passenger door handle.  
  
He momentarily stops the car and slightly lowers the passenger seat window. Leaning over, he says, “Sayonara, Vic. When I get back, your ass had better be far, far away from here.”  
  
He hits the gas pedal hard, nearly knocking me over and ripping the handle out of my grip. I yell his name again, but the reality is stifling: I’ve lost him. After all this time, after everything I’ve done to keep him alive, he’s still gone. Emotionally, I just burned the only bridge I had left, and now I’m stranded.


	19. Let Love Bleed Red

**Chapter 19 - Kellin**  
  
If someone were to ask me right this moment where I’m driving to, I’d say, “Away.” That’s all I know. I’m driving away—away from my house, away from my life, away from Vic. I don’t know how far away. It could be a few miles, or maybe I’ll go through three states.  
  
He’s right. Eventually, I’ll have to come back. Or maybe I won’t. People run away all the time. I’ll find someplace to stay, and I’ll start over, and this life will all just be a distant memory. It’ll be as relevant as a nightmare I had once as a little kid, which isn’t very relevant at all.  
  
 _But what about Mom? And Oli?_  I wonder.  _And Vic?_  
  
My mind automatically tacks his name on at the end, and my hands tighten on the wheel at the thought. “Vic doesn’t matter,” I tell myself out loud. “He doesn’t care about you, remember? So you shouldn’t care about him. I mean, you left him. Duh.”  
  
I turn the radio on and blast it in the hopes of shutting my brain up. I can faintly hear my phone ringing in my pocket, but I don’t want to talk to anyone, so I don’t answer. My body seems to do the driving for me—it knows where I’m going, but I don’t. I’m just along for the ride.  
  
Soon, I see water. I turn into a nearby parking lot and step out, immediately realizing where I’ve been going this whole time: the river. There’s a place where the land rises up above it, which is where I’m at, plus quite a bit of land for kids to play on and picnic tables overlooking the water. Most people don’t go past those tables because there’s no fence, and even though it’s not a particularly long fall, the rocks on the way down are a bit sharp, and the river is deep here. (For a popular hangout, you’d think someone would take more precautions. But that’s a shitty small town for you.)  
  
Nobody is here today, so I just sit down on top of a picnic table close to the water. That’s when it occurs to me that I have no idea what I’m doing here. Why did I even drive to this place?  
  
Which brings me back to my original intent: to get away. I drove away, and this is where I ended up. But now that I’m away, what do I do? Do I drive farther away? Do I go back?  
  
I decide to just stay here for a little while. Because I’m no longer doing anything except sitting and looking around, the thoughts I’ve been trying to suppress start running around in my head again.  
  
I’ve been apologizing for all the wrong things. All those little things that never mattered, all the things that weren’t even my fault. I really wasn’t sorry when I found out that Vic saw me with Oli, when I realized I’d just shown him how it felt to be on the other end. And just as I was learning to not be sorry for everything, Vic pointed out how wrong I was.  
  
And how selfish that was, to be unapologetic. Just a few days ago, I nearly broke up with Vic because I knew it was the best thing for him. I was letting him go, but then that selfishness settled in, and I would’ve done anything to make sure he stayed mine. That’s why I wasn’t sorry—because I thought that maybe, if he knew what it was like, he wouldn’t ever do it again.  
  
But I am sorry now, and not just because I know I should be. I’m sorry because Vic hates me, and that is my fault. I’m sorry because I broke us. Or maybe we both broke us. We both had a part in it, and I hate all the things I said to him. I kind of want to call him and tell him that I didn’t mean any of it, that I want him to stay right where he is because I’m coming to get him. But would he even want to hear my voice? He didn’t make it seem like he would.  
  
I remember that about a week ago, Vic told me something about anger. He said that he feels like there are two kinds of anger: the kind that makes you say things you don’t mean, and the kind that makes you say everything on your mind.  _Which one was that?_ I wonder.  _Did he mean it all, or none of it?_  
  
I want to believe that it was the first kind, but I can’t help but compare our current relationship to a bottle of liquor that my dad just finished. When he lived with us, as soon as he was done with one, he’d smash it, shatter it until it’s unfixable. Why? Because there was nothing good left in it. And maybe there’s nothing good left in us.  
  
Before my thoughts can wander even deeper down a rabbit hole, I hear the sound of tires under gravel and an engine running. I should’ve known I wouldn’t be alone for long. I turn around to see who’s coming and nearly fall off the table when I recognize the car. It’s Jaime.  
  
He parks the car, jumps out, and makes his way toward me. “You son of a bitch!”  
  
I hop down onto the ground. “Hey. That’s my mom you’re talking about.”  
  
He scowls. “Very funny. I don’t like the stunt you pulled with that video.”  
  
"Uh, that was kind of the point. And how did you know I even had anything to do with it?"  
  
"Knew it was either you or Oli—I’m pretty sure that’s his name. Everybody else believed the rumors. Never thought you’d break into security cameras."  
  
I snort. “I didn’t. Hidden camcorder. It’s a senior secret. Guess you won’t be trying anything in  _that_  closet again.”  
  
"If it’s a senior secret, how do you know about it?"  
  
I shrug. “I have my sources. What are you doing here, anyways? How’d you even know where I was?”  
  
He points to the main road, where anyone passing by could glance over and see the people here. “I was just driving past this place and I saw you, so I decided to pay you a visit.”  
  
"Well, that’s very thoughtful of you," I say sarcastically, "but I think you’ve overstayed that visit. So if you could just get back into your car and keep doing whatever you were doing, that’d be great."  
  
Jaime shakes his head. “No can do. I stopped for a reason.”  
  
"And that reason is…?"  
  
"This." He punches me in the face, causing me to take a few steps backward and crash into the picnic table. He grabs me by my shirt, pushes me down onto it, and leans over me.  
  
I smirk. “You gonna kiss me now, pretty boy?”  
  
He slaps me across the face, but I push him backward and lift myself up. My thought process shifts into the same mindset I’d use in a fight with Ian, so when Jaime charges at me, I smoothly step aside, grab his arm, and slam him against the table. He kicks out with both feet, and one lightly taps my leg, but I’m standing far enough away that it doesn’t do much damage. However, this also means my grip on him isn’t as strong, so he wrestles my arms off, pops back up, and throws another punch.  
  
I duck, and his fist hits air. Still crouched, I look up at him with an innocent smile that, in reality, is anything but innocent. “Missed me.”  
  
"Yeah, I can see that," Jaime says, kicking at me again. I fall onto my back to avoid his foot, but then he leans over me, nearly trapping me on the ground. I try to slide out from under him, but he holds me down by my shoulders. He punches me in the nose, and I can tell there’s blood. "I won’t let you win, Kellin."  
  
"Two things," I reply. "One: How does beating me up help win Vic over? Two: He probably hates me anyways. You already won."  
  
Jaime stares at me for a few more seconds before hesitantly standing up. I pull myself to my feet and brush myself off. I start to think it’s over, but then I hear him say, “I really, really fucking hate you.” He grabs me by the shirt again and gives me another slap.  
  
I begin to dart away, but he grabs both my arms and twists them. “What the hell, Jaime?” I yell, trying not to wince. “You won! You fucking won!”  
  
After a couple moments of struggle, he slowly releases his breath. “Fine.” He roughly shoves me backwards, letting go of my arms, and I stumble—and keep stumbling. That’s when I remember where I am.  
  
We lock eyes, and Jaime’s widen as he realizes what’s about to happen. He rushes forward and reaches his hand out, but it’s too late—the ground disappears beneath me, the breath knocked out of my lungs.  
  
 _Vic. I love you. I’m sorry._  
  
A split second later, there’s a terrible cracking sound, and the world goes out like a light.


	20. My Happy Ending

**Chapter 20 - Vic**  
  
About an hour later, my cell phone rings. I’m sitting on the front porch of my house, thinking about Kellin. I check the caller ID, but it’s not him. I consider ignoring it, before deciding to answer. “Hello?”  
  
"Vic," says a breathless voice. "Vic, it’s Jaime. Something happened."  
  
"This better be good," I reply dismissively.  
  
"Vic, something bad happened. Really bad. With…with Kellin."  
  
—  
  
It’s been three days since Kellin’s suicide.  
  
Jaime is the one who found him and pulled him out. He refuses to give any details as to what happened before that and claims he saw nothing but the fall. I keep wanting to talk to him about it, but I still haven’t.  
  
I’m getting a lot of attention—too much. Everyone knows I was the closest person to Kellin, and they’re all asking why he did it. Every time, I seem to end up either snapping at them or ignoring them. He’s dead now, so of course people suddenly want to know everything about him.  
  
Nobody actually knows for sure that it was a suicide. Jaime never said it was; he just said that Kellin fell, and there weren’t any other witnesses. Someone must’ve started a rumor again, but that one probably came more from speculation than bad intentions. It could’ve been an accident, but come on—it can’t be a coincidence. Right before it happened, I told him I wouldn’t care if he was dead. All of a sudden, sure enough, he’s dead.  
  
Today is Saturday, which means I have an excuse to hide at home. I end up lying on the couch in the living room, staring at the ceiling and doing nothing. Mom keeps talking to me, but it’s mindless and irrelevant, and we both know it.  
  
Eventually, she sits down in the chair across from me and says, “I know it’s hard, but you can’t blame yourself.”  
  
I close my eyes. She told me the same thing when Dad died, but this time is different. This time, I have a reason to blame myself.  
  
I don’t say that, though. Instead I say, “I know. I won’t. I promise.”  
  
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I guess at some point I did, because at around 2:30 I wake up to the sound of two people talking out in the kitchen. I recognize both voices immediately: my mother’s and Kellin’s. I think they’re discussing funeral arrangements.  
  
"You can sit in the living room, Mary," Mom says. "Vic’s just in there sleeping."  
  
It’s like Dad all over again, only this time Mary is alone. Last time, Kellin was with her, and I can clearly remember him sitting next to me silently, trying to think of what to say, not knowing that his silence was a lot more comforting than any words he could ever come up with.  
  
Now, though—now he’s silent for good. And this silence is anything but comforting.  
  
I open my eyes slightly. Mary sits down in the same chair that Mom did earlier, watching me with an expression I can’t figure out. “Mary,” I breathe, opening my eyes a bit wider. “I’m sorry.”  
  
She seems startled. “You don’t…you don’t have to be sorry, Vic. This is just as much of your loss as it is mine.”  
  
But that’s not what I meant. We’ve both been getting a lot of that lately, empty apologies from people who don’t know what to say but feel the need to say something. This one is different. I’m apologizing because I truly mean it—Kellin would still be alive if it weren’t for me.  
  
Someone knocks on the door, and Mom rushes to answer it. It’s probably someone else we barely know, here to “express their condolences” and give us some sort of casserole. Why are casseroles always associated with dead people? We got plenty of them after Dad died, so many that I decided I never wanted to see one again. I still don’t.  
  
"Vic!" Mom calls. "You’ve got a friend here."  
  
I sit up, confused, and head to the front door. “Who—?”  
  
Oli waves at me solemnly. Nobody else is with him, and he isn’t holding a casserole, thank God. “Hey…Vic.”  
  
I narrow my eyes. What the hell is he doing here? “Uh…hi.”  
  
"Listen, I know we’re not great friends or anything, but…can I talk to you?"  
  
After a few moments of silence, I say, “Um…sure. You can, uh, come upstairs if you want.”  
  
He steps through the front door, closes it behind him, and follows me up. When we get to my bedroom, I sit down in a chair and ask, “So what’s this about?”  
  
He sits on my bed. “You know what it’s about. He’s the only reason we’ve ever spoken.”  
  
I nod. “Kellin, then.”  
  
He nods, too. “Before he, you know…did he say anything to you?”  
  
Thinking of our argument, I pull my knees up to my chest and bury my face in them. “He said everything to me.”  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
I don’t look up. “I…we…we fought. And I told him…that I wouldn’t care if he was dead. So he left. And then…he was dead. I really don’t think it was just a fall.”  
  
I do look up then, trying to judge how much Oli must hate me now, and that’s when I realize that I don’t hate him. Staring at him, I can see the one thing that we have in common: We both cared about Kellin, right up until the moment he died.  
  
I close my eyes. “I tried so hard, Oli. I tried so hard to keep him alive. I thought I could. I really did. But I mean…I guess it didn’t matter. We knew it’d happen eventually.” My voice cracks at the last part. I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter and bite my lip to the point that I taste blood.  
  
When the feeling subsides, Oli gives me a sad smile. “In a strange way, I’m kind of relieved. I mean, it still hurts—hurts like hell. But at least the suspense is over, you know? I wasn’t blind. And you definitely weren’t, either. I thought maybe he wouldn’t go through with it, you know, after his dad went to rehab. And I thought you could keep him alive, too. He really cared about you. But…I guess I was wrong.” He shrugs and stares at the floor, and in that one movement, I can see how painful this is for him.  
  
"Yeah," I say. "I know what…what you mean. I thought he’d make it. Or at least I hoped he would."  
  
"Vic!" Mom yells. "There’s someone else here for you!"  
  
_Someone else?_  I stand up. “Send them up, whoever they are!” I yell back. Sarcastically, I add, “We can have a party.”  
  
A few seconds later, Jaime solemnly steps through the doorway. “Hey…Vic.”  
  
Oli and I exchange surprised glances. “Um,” I say. “Not to be rude, but…what are you doing here?”  
  
"I just needed to…talk to you for a moment." He nods at Oli. "But I wasn’t really expecting…him."  
  
I decide to cut to the chase. “If you think you’re going to use this to get me back—”  
  
"No," Jaime interrupts. "No, that’s not what I planned at all. Honestly."  
  
I sit back down. “What did you come here for, then?”  
  
He sighs and sits in a different chair. “I felt like you deserved to know something. About…Kellin.”  
  
"Well, whatever it is, you can say it in front of me," Oli says.  
  
He hesitates. “It has to do with…how he died.”  
  
"If you’re coming here to tell us it’s true that he killed himself, we kind of already figured that out," I tell him.  
  
"No," Jaime replies. "I’m coming to tell you that you’re wrong."  
  
"He didn’t kill himself?" Oli says. "He just…fell?"  
  
Jaime shakes his head. “He didn’t kill himself. But he didn’t just fall, either. He was pushed.”  
  
"But you said there weren’t any other people there," I say. "Didn’t you?"  
  
He nods grimly. “I did. And I didn’t lie, either.”  
  
The room fills with silence as Oli and I realize what he’s saying. “You killed him,” I say. “You killed my boyfriend.”  
  
He doesn’t respond, and that’s when I know he isn’t joking.  
  
"You killed him," I repeat, standing up. "You  _killed_  him! You fucking  _killed_  him—”  
  
"I didn’t do it on purpose, Vic!" Jaime snaps. "I mean, yes, I hated him, but I wouldn’t try to  _kill_  him. I didn’t mean to push him over the edge, just away from me. I pulled him out afterwards. I thought maybe it wasn’t too late, but it was. I’m not telling anyone else because I’m trying to save my own skin. Okay?”  
  
_Why did it have to be him?_  I wonder.  _If someone had to die, why was it him?_  
  
"Jaime," Oli starts, sounding only slightly disoriented, "I don’t know if—"  
  
"You can’t tell anyone," Jaime says. "You can hate me all you want. But you can’t tell anyone."  
  
I stare at him for a few seconds before pushing past him, out the door and down the stairs. He and Oli both call my name, but I ignore them.  
  
I jump into the car with a sudden need to go somewhere I definitely should’ve visited by now. Before I know it, I’m pulling into the local cemetery. Kellin isn’t buried there yet, but Dad is, so I park in the nearest empty space, hop out, and start to scour the rows of graves.  
  
It doesn’t take too long to find him. Mom used to bring me here sometimes, but I always refused to see the grave, so I just stayed in the car and watched her. Kellin was right—for three years, I tried so hard to pretend Dad never existed, so now I’m going to make it up. Or attempt to.  
  
I sit down in front of the grave with my legs pulled up to my chest, wondering what Kellin’s grave will look like. It probably won’t be much different. It’ll have his name, the day he was born, and the day he died— _wait_.  
  
And that’s when I remember. It’s something I’m ashamed to have forgotten. I’ve been so preoccupied with all these other problems that I never stopped to think.  
  
Kellin died on his seventeenth birthday.  
  
The things I was planning to give him are still hiding in the back of my closet. I was so fucking angry that day that I never even thought about it.  
  
Suddenly, I can feel tears running down my face, and I don’t know where they came from. I’ve been trying to suppress them since I found out he died, but within a few moments, I’m crying so hard I can’t even breathe. I don’t remember the last time I cried this hard.  
  
"I’m s-sorry," I gasp, though there’s no one to hear me. "I didn’t mean to…to hurt you. I didn’t think I’d…I didn’t think. And now you’re gone, Kellin. You’re gone and it’s my…my fault."  
  
It doesn’t matter that Jaime is the one who pushed him. They never would’ve run into each other if Kellin hadn’t run away. And he wouldn’t have run away if I hadn’t started that argument. And I wouldn’t have started that argument if Kellin hadn’t kissed Oli. And Kellin wouldn’t have kissed Oli if I hadn’t cheated on him with Jaime. Kellin was right about that, too: I started this, and now he’s dead because of it. Because of a stupid fucking desire I couldn’t control.  
  
_Idiot,_  I tell myself, still sobbing like a little kid.  _Stupid. Fucking. Idiot._  
  
But what about Kellin? He wasn’t innocent, either. He could’ve confronted me. He could’ve cut the problem out right at its source. He ignored my affair with Jaime just like I ignored Dad’s death.  
  
_So in conclusion,_  I think bitterly,  _we’re both stupid fucking bastards._  
  
And what about my newest problem? Jaime could get into some deep shit. I don’t know what to do about it. Everything might subside if I don’t tell anyone. But that’s what I thought every time I kissed Jaime. I can’t make the same mistake.  
  
But what if it were the other way around? What if Kellin had pushed Jaime instead? Would I turn Kellin in because of what happened the last time I didn’t say anything?  
  
The answer is simple and immediate. Of course I wouldn’t, not for anything. I’d protect him with my life. And if I really cared about what happened to Jaime, I wouldn’t even consider turning him in, either.  
  
"Kellin," I say, "why did we have to be so stupid?"  
  
I don’t know why I’m talking to him out loud. Do I expect him to answer me or something? There’s only the rustling of trees above my head.  
  
"Kellin. Why did you have to die? You could’ve made it to May. You promised me you’d make it to May." I start talking faster, rambling. "Your mom…I don’t know what she’s gonna do. Her husband was an alcoholic bastard, and she thinks her only son killed himself. And Oli…I think I’ll try to be friends with Oli, okay? He acts like he doesn’t need it, but I think he does. And Ian…I’m gonna try not to hate him. I don’t know what to do about Jaime. I mean, maybe nothing will happen. And maybe I’d just be making things worse by telling people. Or maybe I should tell someone, and maybe it would be better for me, but as I told you once…I don’t really pay attention to what’s better for me. Also…I won’t try to ignore you, Kells. Not like I did with Dad. I won’t pretend to be okay. I’m  _not_  okay. I promise.”  
  
I stand up then, wiping at my eyes and taking deep breaths. Way over on the other side of the cemetery, a man is sitting down in front of a grave. He looks so lonely, and that’s when I realize that I’m lonely, too.  
  
Practically since birth, Kellin has been by my side, and now he’s been ripped away from me and I’m just here. I’m not even me anymore. I’m Vic-without-Kellin, and wherever he is, he is Kellin-without-Vic. I am alone. I am severed from the other part of me.  
  
I open my mouth to say goodbye, but the word gets stuck in my throat. I can’t tell him that yet. So instead, I decide to be honest with him: “I’ll talk to you later. I miss you.”  
  
And in a life that I can tell will soon be filled with uncertainty, that’s the only thing I’m sure of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter title is sarcastic. As you may be able to tell by now.
> 
> In case you think this is some sort of pointless or cop-out ending: I wrote this story to talk about the importance of trust, loyalty, and honesty (hence the title) and the consequences of our actions and how they affect others. This was all supposed to happen the moment I wrote the first sentence of the first chapter.
> 
> I made a mix on 8tracks for this fic, too. You can find it [here](http://8tracks.com/ashesashes/if-you-wanted-honesty-kellic).
> 
> So yeah. That's the end. Thank you for reading. Really. It means the world.


End file.
